


kingdom come undone

by summercourtship



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Kylo Ren, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Finger Sucking, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Reader's Appearance is not Described, Smut, Sparring as a means of relationship development, Tags Added As I Go, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex, basically a bodice ripper and that's okay., im sad and using kylo ren to cope SUE ME, thigh riding, this was spiritually written in 2016
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summercourtship/pseuds/summercourtship
Summary: “You’re so… small.” He said, his voice bringing you out of your thoughts, bringing your attention back into the tiny room you were kept in. You blinked, confused as to why he was bringing up your size. Everyone must seem small to him, considering how large his own frame- his whole presence- was. “Insignificant.”Oh.He’s insulting you. But he isn’t wrong. You weren’t some decorated military leader, or a princess from an influential kingdom, able to wield your standing to actually make a difference. You weren’t even Force-sensitive. No, you were just a girl from some irrelevant planet. But your soulmate was the complete opposite of that. He was powerful, so powerful that people from all over the galaxy knew who he was, whispered about him and what he could do. Powerful enough that they knew to fear him.“And yet, you’re fated to me.”You are a fighter for the Resistance, captured after a mission goes wrong. But where you expected to be interrogated for information you didn't have and subsequently killed, you instead meet your soulmate.Unfortunately.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 25
Kudos: 205





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a wee bit nervous posting this because I haven't written for a large fandom in a very long time! But I suppose this is very small niche of the fandom but it's still a bit intimidating hehe. Big thank you to my younger sister who was very kind and offered to help me by beta reading, it was the best thing ever and she has all my love. 
> 
> ♡♡♡
> 
> [title comes from 'hoax' by Taylor Swift bc i'm a romantic shithead]

**_part one:_**

In writing, the mission was a simple one. 

Sneak into the outpost. Obtain the plans for the First Order’s new weapon. Get out. 

But as you sat on your team’s transport, quickly approaching the planet where the First Order outpost was located, you couldn’t help but think of every single way this mission would go wrong. The uncertainties were building up in your mind, causing the tangled ball of anxiety that had been rolling around in your thoughts to grow. You figure if you unraveled the ball, the only thing at the center would be fear of catastrophic failure. Every other worry you had about the mission was inherently related to that fear of failing, of being a disappointment to the Resistance.

Of everyone they could have chosen for this mission, it was assigned to you and four others, meaning you’d obviously proved yourself in some way. It was incredibly risky, and the amount of trust the Resistance must have had in you was nothing to shake your head at. It was confirmation that you had shown yourself to be better than just barely escaping being blaster fodder. If you managed to succeed at this, you were going to be considered important, someone who deserved to go on more risky missions. You would rise through the ranks, and one day you would be General Organa’s right hand and- 

Okay. Maybe that was pushing it a bit too far. 

It was far easier to imagine the few possibilities that the mission would somehow be a success, seeing as there was really only one way for the mission to go right. But the list of negative outcomes started playing in your mind again before you could attempt to distract yourself: the plans don’t exist; the outpost doesn’t exist; the plans exist but they aren’t at this outpost, which would ruin any future attempt to find them; the informant was actually leading you to a trap… So on and so forth. 

To lead your mind away from the daunting list of anxieties, you repeated the three tasks in your head.

Sneak into the outpost. Obtain the plans for the First Order’s new weapon. Get out. 

Due to your standing, you were kept on a strictly need-to-know basis. You didn’t know what the weapon was, or what it was rumored to do. You didn’t know who told the Resistance about it. All you knew were the steps.

Sneak into the outpost. Obtain the plans for the First Order’s new weapon. Get out. 

“Almost there. Get ready.” The leader of your temporary unit for the mission, Ada, called out from her place in the pilot’s seat. Next to her was the man who would be on standby in the transport, waiting for your team’s return. Your heart skipped a beat, your nerves taking over again. Hands shaking, you quickly checked your supplies, ensuring you had everything to get out of the outpost alive. Blaster, datapad, knife, goggles, various other bits and bobs. Once you finished, you hurriedly closed the rucksack and slung it over your back, fastening the blaster into its holster and slipping the knife into your jacket’s inner pocket. 

There was no turning back now. 

“Ready?” Ada asked. You secured your hat onto your head, making sure your hair was out of your face. The team nodded, not willing to say anything aloud. She stiffly returned the nod, before moving through the group to dismount. “Alright. Go time.” 

Sneak into the outpost. Obtain the plans for the First Order’s new weapon. Get out.

The ground was soft under your boots. It seemed that the dirt had been disturbed recently. Animals tittered and chirped around you, and you frowned at the thought of this beautiful land being used to house the First Order. The world around you was lush and gorgeous, but none of you were able to fully appreciate it. Everyone on your team was thinking the same thing: _Is today the day I die?_

Ada had landed the transport ship far away enough so that the First Order wouldn’t be able to immediately detect your presence on the planet. This was good news for your arrival, but it would mean your escape would have to be as quick as possible. Because of this uncertainty, there was an unspoken agreement amongst the group. 

_If you fall behind, you stay behind._

As the small group crept through the forest, you nervously rubbed the writing on your left wrist. It was a nervous habit, something you did subconsciously for luck. It was the reason to live past this day. You had someone out there, waiting for you to come into their life. And you _would_ live to meet them. 

Just the reminder of your soulmate, someone who you hadn’t even met yet, was enough to temporarily calm your nerves. _You were going to be fine, you were going to survive this._

When you finally reached the perimeter of the outpost, Ada put a hand out slightly, signaling you all to stop. Two members of your team were going to utilize the switching of the guards to create a distraction while you and one other person would sneak into the building. The informant had been able to provide the patrol schedules and vague directions to find where the plans were stored. The process of switching the guards and patrols could take anywhere from five to fifteen minutes and that was just barely enough time to get in and out of the building. 

Your team had arrived at just the right time as the current guards standing outside the doors soon went into the outpost, leaving the door unmanned. Ada and her partner crept out from the trees they had been hiding behind, and did a hasty check that there were no First Order members hanging around. When they had ensured this, they signaled to you and your partner to move. You nodded at them as you passed, unsure if you’d ever see them again, before entering the building. 

It was eerily silent in the base. 

Every single footstep seemed to echo back to you ten times louder. Your partner, Raul, walked slightly ahead of you, both of you on opposite sides of the hallway. Occasionally, you both would stop and listen, trying to hear if any First Order members were nearby. You almost wished for someone to round the corner, because the longer the two of you went without any sign of life, the more nervous you became. But you knew better than to actually want that, counting the lack of disturbances as a blessing.

When you’d reached the end of the corridor, you both looked at one another. While your shooting skills had certainly helped your advancement within the Resistance, it was your affinity for stealth that had you assigned to this mission. Raul, on the other hand, was an incredibly good fighter and was significantly bigger than you, making him the perfect partner to send in to watch your back as you tried to access the plans. If your survival was ensured, you might have joked about being the star of the mission. But it wasn’t, so you didn’t.

Nodding to each other, you both started walking down the left hall, you leading the way this time. Mentally you went over the directions that the informant had provided.

 _Down the corridor. Left. Left. Right. Right. Left. Ensure the patrol isn’t near. Break into the command center. Get the plans from the holotable. Don’t die._

You took another left. There was an officer standing at one of the doors, reading something off of a datapad. You pressed yourself against the wall, hidden from his sight, watching to see what he was going to do. After a few moments, he visibly sighed and entered the room he had been standing across from. Counting your lucky stars, the two of you continued. 

_Right. Right. Left. Ensure the patrol isn’t near. Break into the command center. Get the plans from the holotable. Don’t die._

You took a right.

_Right. Left. Ensure the patrol isn’t near. Break into the command center. Get the plans from the holotable. Don’t die._

_Don’t die._

_Don’t die._

It’s funny. For how nervous you were before even entering the atmosphere of the planet, your reaction to the sight of six Stormtroopers coming your way was surprisingly calm. Rational, even. 

You pressed yourself into one of the alcoves that lined the hallway, taking your blaster out of its holster. Peering out, you managed to get a few shots out, downing one of the ‘Troopers. From the other side of the hall, Raul gestured to you and his meaning was clear: _we gotta get out, the mission is a failure._

Though you were tempted to defy him and continue trying to carry out the mission, you knew that that was a foolish thought. There was nothing waiting for you in the corridor aside from your death. Heart hammering, you bolted, running backwards as you shot at the advancing soldiers, Raul following behind closely.

At least you can always depend on Stormtroopers to be completely incompetent. They barely shot at the two of you, and the shots they did fire missed completely. You were so caught up in the adrenaline of the moment that you were unable to think through why they were failing to try and kill you. 

When you finally reached the turns again, you broke into a sprint, not bothering to look behind you. You could hear Raul behind you, occasionally shooting behind him, and the Stormtroopers’ footfalls behind that. 

“We need at least one of them alive!” One of the ‘Troopers shouted. If your heart hadn’t been pounding in exhaustion and fear, you would have sworn it stopped. 

They weren’t trying to kill you. 

They were trying to _capture_ you. 

Raul speeds up then, using his long legs to pass you. Now you started checking behind your shoulder, and you shot at any of the armoured soldiers that were a bit too close to you. 

When you finally burst out from the building, you saw Ada and her partner jerk up from where they had been waiting for your return. 

“Run!” Raul yelled, and they wasted no time listening to him, immediately setting off into the forest. The occasional blast would whizz past you, landing on the soft dirt ground, creating sparks where it made impact. You jumped around the new scorch marks, never slowing down your stride. 

Soon, the transport was in sight, two of your team members already on board. They were anxiously watching the rest of you approach, and more frighteningly, watching the Stormtroopers gradually start to close in on you. But they hadn’t caught you yet, and your confidence in your survival was starting to grow as each step brought you closer and closer to your escape. 

Those hopes came crashing right back down when your foot caught on a well hidden root, and you also came crashing down onto the ground. Your knees hit the ground before the rest of you, your right knee taking the brunt of the fall. Your blaster flew from your hand, landing in the underbrush. Cursing, you scrambled back to your feet. There’s no time to pick your blaster back up, and the temporary break from your running left you able to fully register your exhaustion. When you tried to start running again, your speed was nowhere near where it had been before you fell, and your knee was screaming at you to stop. 

Raul looks back at you, giving you a wide eyed glance. In the time you spent on the ground, the remaining two members had gained significant ground towards the transport. You kept trying to run, but your injured leg was no longer cooperating with your brain, leaving you limping pathetically towards the ship. 

Ada shouted your name, everyone now on the transport. Her eyes were wide in fear, watching as you struggled to continue. You didn’t want them to leave you. But if they waited for you, they wouldn’t be able to escape, which would lead to all of you being captured and killed. 

_If you fall behind, you stay behind._

“Go!” You shout back, allowing yourself to stop moving. You had a second of peace as she nodded at you and hurriedly closed the ship’s hatch before a strong body slammed into your back, knocking you onto the ground again. You suppressed a cry of pain as a knee was pressed to your back while your arms were forced behind you and restrained. 

The last thing you registered was your team’s transport- your escape, your freedom- taking off, blowing back the few Stormtroopers who had tried to stop it from leaving. Your range of vision was limited due to the hold one of the soldiers had on your head and soon all you could see was the gorgeous green of the planet whose name you never even learned. 

A sharp pain on the crown of your head and everything went black.  
___

The first thought that crossed your mind was it was cold. 

Then it was recognition that you were awake. 

And then the recollection of everything that had led you to the place you were at now. 

Your head felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton, heavy and your thoughts foggy. The spot where you had been hit was sore, adding to the pain in the knee you had fallen on. Your wrists ached, and a quick glance downward revealed that they were bound to the metal slab you were restrained on. Your ankles had received the same treatment, and another band around your waist ensured that you were firmly secured for interrogation. 

You were officially a prisoner of the First Order. 

The space in front of you was empty, but you could feel the presence of someone- _something_ \- behind you, just out of your peripheral vision. Watching you. Waiting. 

“Please just kill me.” You said, voice weak and shaking. The words cracked as they left your lips, your mouth and throat unbelievably dry. How long had you been out? The last thing you remember was the moment before the blow to your head (a blaster? a batton?), the sight of your team running to their transport. Leaving you behind. 

As much as you wanted to be angry about it, you couldn’t blame them. You knew going into the mission that this was a possibility and you’d agreed to accept the outcome if it came down to it. But knowing that didn’t make the reality of your situation hurt any less. 

“That won’t be necessary.” The deep distorted voice sent chills down your spine. You knew that voice, even if it was just secondhand knowledge from hearing talk back at the Resistance base. He moved into your field of vision from the shadows, a mass of black fabric and metal that blended into the dark room. _Kylo Ren._ Then you fully processed what he had just said. 

And your stomach dropped. 

“...What did you just say?” No. _No no no_. Thoughts racing, you struggled slightly in your bonds. Despite the lack of food in your stomach, you feared you would vomit. The four words that had just crossed through his helmet were the same words that you had traced on your wrist for your whole life. That you had fantasized over, trying to figure out exactly why those words would be said to you. 

“I’m not repeating myself.” His voice interrupted your thoughts, bringing you crashing back down into your reality. 

“What- did you- are you-” 

“Stop.” You shut your mouth with a snap. “How did you get into the outpost?” He asks. You furrowed your brow. That was not a question you expected. It seemed fairly obvious to you, and you can’t figure out why a man in his position would have to ask you that question himself. Unless, of course, that wasn’t the question he needed answered and he was trying to trick you into saying more than you intended.

“Isn’t that something you can figure out yourself?” You say before you can think about the wisdom of talking back at this moment. “I mean, it wasn’t particularly complicated.” 

“No, what’s complicated is how you managed to avoid every single patrol to get into the building without causing a scene. What’s _complicated_ is the Resistance even being aware of it. Who, exactly, gave you this information?”

“I never met them.” He raised his head slightly at you. Part of you desperately wanted to see his face. The other part wanted to close your eyes and never wake up. 

“Lying will not help you.”

“I’m not lying.” You weren’t. For all you know, the informant only ever met with General Organa. Only a handful of the higher-ups of the Resistance even knew their name. Your job was to follow orders. He had to recognize this. 

He stepped forward, leaning towards you. His gloved hand grabbed your jaw before turning your head to the left and right. You tried to fight back, to resist his grip, but he just held tighter, fingers digging into your skin. Without even being able to see his eyes, you knew he was appraising you, not unlike a predator examining his captured prey. 

A noise reached your ears and it took a moment to recognize it through the distortion of the voice modifier. He had hummed, soft and low. It was a noncommittal noise, only serving to heighten your awareness of just how close he was standing to you. 

“They sent you on a glorified suicide mission and you still wish to protect them.” 

“I knew the risks when I joined.” After all, you’d only recently been promoted to a specialist. Before, you’d been frequently putting your life on the line in battles and skirmishes. This was no different. The only thing that changed was now your death would be drawn out as they tried to get answers that you didn’t have out of you.

He lets go of your jaw but doesn’t move back, maintaining the uncomfortable lack of distance between the two of you. “But you’re still hurt that you’re in this situation.” He paused, tilting his head at you. “You resent them for leaving you.”

“It was in their best interests to leave.” 

“And it’s in your best interests to cooperate.” 

“Am I not?” You asked. It’s not your fault that you didn’t have any information to give. “Just kill me already. I’m sure you’ll have no moral objection to it.” 

Another pause from him. For a second, you think he will actually go through with it and you regret what you said. Despite everything, you really didn’t want to die. 

“Interesting.” He says, finally stepping away from you. “You say that as if you don’t also have blood on your hands. Do you ever think about the faceless men and women you and your people have killed?” 

You do. You think about those that you’ve killed everyday. Despite fighting for different causes, you knew that a lot of the soldiers of the First Order didn’t have a choice. If your life had been slightly different, you may have been one of them. But you also knew that there were plenty in the First Order who wholeheartedly believed in the doctrine, who espoused the same lies that their leaders did. It was hard to feel sympathy for those. The hardest thing, however, was not knowing if you’d killed a true believer or just another pawn with your blaster. 

Instead of answering him, you throw the question back at him. “Do you?” 

“No.” His response is clipped, and you imagine that under his helmet his jaw is clenched. _What did he look like under there?_ The question entered your mind unbidden and unwanted. You didn’t- shouldn’t- want to know what he looked like, or even want to know him in any capacity aside from your captor. 

The words on your wrist seemed to burn at this thought, as if reminding you the question that had yet to be answered. Reminding you of what the interrogation had distracted you from. 

_Is he my soulmate?_

You hadn’t been able to see or gauge his reaction to the first words you’d spoken to him. Maybe he wasn’t your soulmate and it was just a horrible coincidence, or a cruel trick the Universe was playing on you. But the odds that he would happen to say the phrase that you’d been waiting your entire life to hear weren’t in your favor. The only way to find out the answer would be to either ask him, or have him bring it up. You had no idea if you’d ever see him again after this interrogation was over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him. 

During your confusion, he had stepped back and had been quietly observing you. You only realized that he had been doing this when he moved to leave, not saying another word to you. Before he left the room, he stopped in front of the doorway, looking over his shoulder back at you. Your breath caught. But he said nothing and simply walked out. You stared at where the door had hissed shut, incoherent thoughts and feelings swimming around in your head.  
___ 

The words had been on your wrist when you woke up on some insignificant day, looping letters where there had once only been smooth skin. There was no rhyme or reason why the words appeared when they did. Most people had their marks show themselves before the age of ten, although- as with anything- there are always late bloomers. But you were one of the lucky ones and one day you suddenly had the first words your soulmate would speak to you on your left wrist, as if they had been there all along.

_That won’t be necessary._

You were eight, running from your room to your parent’s, unable to contain your giddiness as you yelled the entire way there. Excitement coursing through your veins, you shoved your wrist into their faces, watching as they lit up in surprise and joy. It was a rite of passage. It was a constant reminder that you had a future, that there was someone in the galaxy who would be waiting for you. 

You wondered what they looked like. What they did for fun. What planet they would be from. If it would be a romantic or platonic relationship. You secretly hoped for romance, your young heart filling with fantasies of love among the stars. 

Since that day, you’d waited for those four words to fall from someone’s lips when you were first introduced. The phrase was so odd, so uncommon for a first meeting, that you knew the first person to say them would have to be it. Your heart would fill with hope only for it to fall when they didn’t say the magic words, when they turned out to be just another acquaintance for you to try to keep track of. 

That hope never really went away, it was just pushed aside when you joined the Resistance. You were meeting more people than you ever had back on your small home planet, all while fighting for something that you believed in with your whole being. You created a new family with your group of friends, forged through near brushes with death and the sense of unity that bonded all Resistance fighters. 

With all the new people you were being introduced to, you were certain you would meet your soulmate through the Resistance. It was your calling, so naturally your soulmate would come along with it. 

But then they didn’t. Meeting after meeting, nothing. 

And so you continued to wait.  
___

Unsurprisingly, being locked up gave you plenty of time to think. With no one else to talk to (not that you hadn’t tried to talk to the Stormtroopers guarding you), you found yourself repeating the same train of thought over and over again. 

_Oh gods, is he my soulmate_ to _but he didn’t say anything that would indicate it_ to _that doesn’t mean he’s not my soulmate_ to _but that doesn’t mean he’s not not my soulmate_ to _why me?_ to _dammit these bonds are really uncomfortable_. 

The days melded together with no way to tell them apart. By your vague estimation, it had been at least a week since you were first captured. All you really knew was that sometimes people brought food, which was nothing particularly appetizing but you were starving. Your meager daily meal wasn’t enough to stave off the hunger, though. Occasionally, someone brought you water, which only served to heighten your hunger as you felt it run into your empty stomach. 

You wished that they would move you to a cell where you could actually move around, stretch your limbs. You ached from being kept in the same position at all times, and the only time you were able to move was when they took you to shower. Under the careful watch of whatever Stormtroopers were assigned to you at that time, of course, but you enjoyed being able to actually do something. The lukewarm water that cascaded down your back felt almost heavenly compared to the rest of your situation. 

Kylo Ren had not been back since your first interrogation.

You didn’t miss him- there was nothing _to_ miss- but you wanted to talk to him again. See if you could pry the answer to the question that had been burning in your mind out of him. 

_Are you my soulmate?_

To you, an affirmative answer was the only reasonable explanation for why you were being kept prisoner. Unless they suspected you did, actually, have information about who was feeding First Order secrets to the Resistance. Then, you supposed, they might have to employ new methods to pry the answer out of you. And you didn’t doubt that Kylo Ren would somehow be involved if it came to that. 

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Kylo Ren entered the room in a flurry of black, marching into the space with no warning. Startled, you blinked at him, watching as he examined the room. As he did so, you took the opportunity to get a good look at him. He was tall. Broad. Intimidating, powerful. Every inch of him was covered, not even a centimeter of skin peeking through. 

He was a mystery, one that you were not sure you’d ever have the chance to figure out. 

Finally done ignoring you, he moved so he stood right in front of you. He leaned towards you, your face reflected in the visor of his helmet. You looked unbelievably tired. Despite being regularly taken to the bathroom to shower, you were never given time to examine your reflection, only occasionally being able to briefly glance at it. Your reflection was distorted, accentuating the features you disliked about your face. You tried not to frown at her, the girl in the reflection. 

You stayed quiet, waiting for him to start whatever he came to do. Mentally you went over the conversation- _interrogation_ , you reminded yourself- from last time, trying to recall the answers you’d given to his questions. You hadn’t lied, but you wanted to be prepared to not reveal any more than you had decided was necessary the first time around. 

“Who are you?” He asked, the modified voice startling you. You’d forgotten how mechanical it sounded, how inhuman. 

“You don’t already know that?” 

“You aren’t important enough for us to bother.” 

_Aren’t I?_ You wanted to ask, but your uncertainty about the situation you were in made you bite your tongue. Instead, you answered him. Giving him just your name, deciding that he didn’t need more information about you. If he wanted it he could figure it out himself. 

He repeated your name slowly. There was no emotion in his voice. At least, none that the vocoder was able to pick up. Nonetheless, the sound of your name coming from the man before you caused shivers to run down your spine, goosebumps covering your arms. That seemed to happen a lot around him. 

He turned away from you, walking around the room. You listened to his footsteps as he moved, the boots he wore creating surprisingly little noise. He was behind you when he spoke again. 

“I have no use for a soulmate.” 

If you had been able to breathe at that moment, you’re certain you would have choked on it. But you couldn’t breathe, only able to focus on the words that had stolen that ability from you. 

You had confirmation.

The confirmation that you had been _desperate_ for. 

Kylo Ren was your soulmate. He was who the fates intended for you to meet. He was the one you’d been waiting for since the moment your mark appeared on your left wrist. But, according to him, he had not been waiting for you. Didn’t even care that he had met you.

It stung. You bit the inside of your cheek, using the dull pain to distract yourself from the odd sense of betrayal that you felt. You’d deal with that later, when you could actually process every damn thing that has gone wrong over the past week.

“Neither do I.” It was a lie that you breathed into the air. You tried to not think of the amount of times you ran your fingers over the mark, the amount of times you imagined you and your soulmate’s first meeting. You’d imagined tears of happiness and being enveloped in a warm hug from the person you were destined to be forever connected to. The words you’d trace for good luck, whether you were sitting for an exam or heading into a battle. You’d put so much faith into what the four words represented and the hope of a future they ignited in you. 

Now you didn’t even know if you would live to see the next day. 

Kylo stepped back into your vision. He’s silent, observing you again. You maintained eye contact with him, or at least where you assumed his eyes were underneath his helmet. Once more, you wondered what he looked like underneath it, if he was as monstrous as his heart. 

Would it be a crueler twist to be destined for a monster whose visage reflected the ugliness of his soul or to one who was deceptively beautiful? 

“You’re so… small.” He said, his voice bringing you out of your thoughts, bringing your attention back into the tiny room you were kept in. You blinked, confused as to why he was bringing up your size. Everyone must seem small to him, considering how large his own frame- his whole _presence_ \- was. “Insignificant.” 

_Oh._

He’s insulting you. But he isn’t wrong. You weren’t some decorated military leader, or a princess from an influential kingdom, able to wield your standing to actually make a difference. You weren’t even Force-sensitive. No, you were just a girl from some irrelevant planet. But your soulmate was the complete opposite of that. He was powerful, so powerful that people from all over the galaxy knew who he was, whispered about him and what he could do. Powerful enough that they knew to fear him.

“And yet, you’re fated to me.” 

“As you are fated to me.” You respond, lifting your chin. It was defiant, a brief moment of boldness that had possessed you. But you would not let him treat you as an object. 

He simply looked at you now. The only sound in the room was your breathing, which seemed deafening in the silence. The tilt of his head indicated that he was lost in thought, the helmet cocked slightly to the side as he continued to wordlessly stare in your direction. 

After at least a minute of nothing, he broke the silence that had fallen between the two of you. 

“You will be moved to your new quarters on Starkiller Base within the next week.” 

“Wait, what do you mean-” But he was already gone, the air still buzzing with his energy. You let your head fall back against the metal slab, no less confused and no less tired than when Kylo Ren had first entered your life.


	2. Chapter 2

“We’re going to escort you to the hangar to be taken from here to Starkiller Base. It’s just the two of us taking you down, but don’t think you can try to get away from us- we have orders to incapacitate you if needed.” Two Stormtroopers were standing in your cell, one explaining while the other worked on releasing you from your bonds. You nodded in response, unsure of what you were supposed to say. It wasn’t like you had a choice- Kylo Ren said you were moving, therefore you were moving. 

Before you could leave, they handed you a set of new clothes to replace the clothes that you’d been wearing since you were captured. It was odd how they’d allowed you to clean yourself but not provide clean clothes, but you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t be glad to never see those garments again. It was humiliating to clean yourself only to crawl right back into the same filthy clothes you’d been wearing day in and day out. 

Now that you think about it, perhaps that’s why they did it. 

Your new outfit was all black, the clothes made of a stretchy, breathable fabric and the boots rising to your mid-calf. One of the Stormtroopers- who you suspected had grown to tolerate your presence over your two week stay, if her unhostile demeanor was anything to go by- explained that your outfit was the same thing they wore when not in their armor. 

Giving her a small smile and nod in response, you quickly changed and threw your old clothes into the laundry bag they’d provided. You doubted that they’d actually clean them and throw them into the incinerator instead. After taking the bag away from you, the one Stormtrooper stepped closer, grabbing your hands and restraining them. You glanced down at the cuffs, discreetly tugging on them to test their strength. There was barely any give, not that you had really expected anything different. 

Shuffling down the many corridors of the Finalizer, ignoring the Stormtroopers to your sides, you tried to soak in as much useful information as you could. Any information you could figure out would be helpful to the Resistance, and focusing on your distant, fairly improbable future made it a lot easier to _not_ focus on the near, very real future that was looming over your head. 

Even so, you reached the hangar too soon for your liking. To the others, it was nothing more than an average day as TIE fighters dispatched and arrived, filling the space with the cacophony of engines starting and shutting off in addition to the chatter of workers and droids. To you, however, the sudden sensory overload was like a ton of bricks hitting you in the face. Being shut out from everything but the smallest amount of light and sound for just enough time and then thrust into the busy atmosphere of the hangar with no opportunity to gradually adjust to your surroundings was jarring, to say the least. 

The two Stormtroopers hurried you across the sleek black floor and you were content to watch the reflections of your three bodies moving instead of taking in the enormity of the docking bay. Maybe the girl in your reflection would have better luck and actually be able to think of a way to outsmart everyone and escape. But you couldn’t. 

You continued watching until you were unable, as the floor of the hangar quickly changed to the ramp leading into the transport. 

Being strapped into your seat on the transport was a quick, but annoying, affair. After, feeling like a small child who couldn’t be trusted to not somehow eject themselves into space (which is what you were, at least in the eyes of the First Order), you sat glumly, counting the seconds until you left. 

And once you left, you counted the seconds until you landed.

And once you landed, you counted the seconds until you were in your new cell.

Your new cell which ended up being, much as Kylo Ren had stated, an actual room. It was a significant improvement from the cell you had previously been kept in on the Finalizer. For one, you had an actual bed. While certainly not luxurious, the sight of something more comfortable than the odd contraption you had been strapped into made your shoulders sag in relief. 

The two rooms that made up your quarters weren’t particularly big. Just enough to have a small kitchenette and a bed with a small refresher behind a door on the side wall. You figured that they were bigger than the standard rooms on board for low-ranking personnel, but smaller than those that belonged to the higher ranking officers. 

“You are to remain here until Ren decides what to do with you. The door will be locked all times, and dinner will be brought to you everyday at 1700 hours. If you… need anything, there will always be two Stormtroopers standing guard outside. Do not bother them with stupid tasks.” The officer who had led you to your rooms seemed as eager to get back to whatever his normal job was as you were to be alone. 

You sighed. No matter how beautiful the cage, you were still a prisoner. You had almost let yourself pretend that that wasn’t what your life had become. The officer nodded and left, the door hissing as it automatically locked behind him. 

As you looked at your dreary surroundings, you thought _beautiful_ might have been an overstatement. The room was plain, with no furnishings, nothing to suggest that it was meant to be a place where someone lived. In the cupboard were the smallest amount of the bare minimum necessities to keep you alive. Not thriving or even remotely happy, just enough to maintain a semblance of health outside of your daily delivered meal. There was a distinct lack of anything easily breakable, to presumably prevent you from putting yourself out of your misery, you noted as you closed the cabinet. 

But, you mused as you walked around the small space, at least you weren’t kept constantly restrained like you were on the Finalizer. Silver linings, and all that. 

Finished exploring, you plopped down on the bed, wanting to take a moment to really reflect on what your life had become. _Kylo Ren is my soulmate. Kylo Ren does not **want** me as his soulmate. I do not want **him** as my soulmate._ You paused. _At least, I don’t think I do._

“But why is he keeping me alive, then?” You asked yourself out loud, squinting at the ceiling as if it could give you the answer. It didn’t. 

Groaning, you turned onto your side and stared at the dull grey wall across from your bed. One second, you were numb, eyes unblinking and unfocused, but the next they stung with unshed tears. _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,_ you pleaded with yourself, blinking to dissuade the tears from falling. But images of your friends and family flooded your brain, all of them on faraway planets and not knowing where you were, if you were safe or even alive. _You_ weren’t even sure if you were safe. Before you could try to distract yourself from it, a sob wracked through your body, the choked noise that escaped your mouth loud in the otherwise silent room. 

All the emotions you’d been suppressing since you’d been captured suddenly overwhelmed you, your heart aching in sadness, in anger, in fear and anxiety. You’d been trying so hard to maintain your brave face, but should have realized that the moment you were finally alone it would crumble and you’d finally have to face the complexities of your emotional state. 

There was no way out. You were stuck here, the motives behind keeping you alive a mystery. The Resistance probably thought you dead, and even if they didn’t, how could they know where you were? And why would they care that you were on Starkiller Base when you were so inconsequential to them that they sent on… _What had Kylo Ren called it?_ A glorified suicide mission?

When you’d calmed down after letting yourself cry for what felt like an eternity, a realization gradually started to dawn on you. When it finally reached its conclusion- now a fully formed, cohesive thought- you shot up into a seated position, eyes wide. The only person you had anymore was your soulmate. Meaning that the only person you could depend on was Kylo Ren, who you hated as much as you feared. 

He was all you had.

What a mess.  
___

Survival instinct was the only explanation for how you had somehow endured your time on the Finalizer with your sanity remaining intact. Once the constant looming threat of death was gone, however, you often found yourself laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Your mind, which was usually swimming with thoughts, plans, and fantasies was empty. 

Boredom may be the actual death of you. 

Was this Kylo Ren’s plan? Kill you slowly through making you want to claw your eyes out just for something to do? There were only so many times one could count the lines on the ceiling and walls before they started to blend together into one gray blob. 

You tried to force yourself into sleep, but knowing how quickly any peaceful moment could turn chaotic left you unable to stay still. Restless energy coursed through your veins and you had no real outlet for it. 

So you paced. 

Then you jumped.

Punched your pillow.

Practiced some basic combat, kicking the air and blocking invisible blows.

And then you paced some more. 

But no matter what you did, the energy remained. Was this a side effect of being constantly confined inside in a tiny room?

When the door opened and a Stormtrooper walked through, holding a tray with a plate of… something, you almost cried in relief. Relief at seeing another person, relief that you would have something else to occupy your thoughts for at least five minutes. They placed the tray on your tiny table, the two metals roughly scraping against each other. 

“Your meal.” The Stormtrooper’s voice cut through the air, her helmet stripping any emotions that might have been in her voice, and it was only then that you realized how quiet it had been. How quiet it always was. Another thing to get used to. It was always so quiet around the First Order, starkly contrasting the almost constant bustle and noise of the Resistance. 

You looked down at the plate, before glancing back at the Stormtrooper who was almost back through the door. “I’m supposed to eat mush?” The ‘Trooper hesitated, as if unsure of the rules surrounding talking to you outside of her instructions. A second more passed before she answered. 

“Yes.”

“Is this what the rest of you eat?”

“Yes. It has all the daily nutrition that you need.” You poked the plate, the food- if you could even call it that- barely moving. You’d almost expected it to jiggle.

“...Is this what Kylo Ren eats?” Though you could not see the Stormtrooper’s face, you could practically feel her giving you the _‘that is the stupidest question I have ever heard’_ face. 

“Of course not.” 

“Right.” 

She left almost immediately, leaving you alone once more. The mush seemed to grow in your peripheral, constantly reminding you of its existence. Sighing, you picked up your fork. It wasn’t much different from what they served- _force-fed_ \- you on the Finalizer, but something about having to actually feed it to yourself made it significantly harder to swallow. 

The good thing was it had a distinct lack of taste. You could almost ignore the strange texture and pretend it was nothing more than… well, nothing. Even with this, you really did not want to continue eating after a few bites. The only thing that made you continue eating was the fact that, should an opportunity for escape arise, you would need your strength. 

Once the plate was empty, you pushed it away from you, feeling as if you had both eaten more than you ever had in your entire life and like you had eaten nothing at all. 

Glancing at the very generously provided chronometer, you noted that barely fifteen minutes had passed since the food arrived. You were once again left with nothing to do.

And so, you resumed staring at the wall.  
___

The refresher was small, with just enough space to escape being considered cramped. With nothing better to do, you turned the shower on. At least you could keep yourself clean, even if no one of importance was seeing you, and it had been a few days since you’d arrived on Starkiller, thus a few days since you’d last cleaned yourself. You’d put it off, something about showering here feeling like an acknowledgment and endorsement that this is where you now were living permanently. 

For a moment, you watched the water falling, distantly registering the tiny droplets that hit your face. It wasn’t until steam had started to cloud the glass of the shower that you actually snapped out of it, quickly preparing yourself and jumping under the stream of water.

The warmth hitting your back was heavenly, soothing the aches that had been building since your capture. Since you’d joined the Resistance, really. Comfort was not exactly something you experienced often when in the middle of a war. For a solid minute you just stood, doing nothing aside from enjoying your current moment. Your brain was tired from constantly repeating the same thoughts- over-analyzing every moment from the past few weeks, worrying about the future, screaming about how bored you were, wondering what was happening back with the Resistance. The shower seemed to be the only place where you were able to slow down your mind and it was nice to just stop thinking for once. 

As you started soaping yourself up, you noticed that the soap smelled like nothing. Just a vague scent of cleanliness, and like everything else you’d been given, you assumed this was the same soap that the Stormtroopers and other First Order officers used. They must get used to a life of zero pleasures, what with their food having no taste and their soap having no smell. But even as you mused on the miserable lives they must lead (ignoring your own miserable one for the moment), your thoughts couldn’t help but stray to the man responsible for your position. 

Was this the same soap Kylo Ren used? 

You paused in your washing, the question echoing in your mind. Certainly not, he probably had fancy soap that was an export from some rich planet. You couldn’t imagine him showering. The activity was too mundane, too human for someone like him. If humans weren’t the only creatures with soulmarks, you wouldn’t have even believed that he _was_ human. 

Before you could start wandering too far down _that_ train of thought, you forced yourself to stop. You could ruminate on Kylo Ren’s bathing habits and humanity, or lack thereof, later. Right now, you were destressing. And nothing brought you more stress than the dark man who seemed to constantly work his way into your thoughts like he owned the place. 

Huffing, you finished rinsing, making sure that you were completely free of soap before aggressively shutting the shower off. The humid bathroom was no longer relaxing, instead smothering you in its oppressive heat. Opening the door let the steam out and cool air in, but the suffocating feeling didn’t let up. 

Not even bothering to get re-dressed into one of the identical outfits they had provided, you flopped face-first onto the bed before screaming into your pillow. You continued screaming until your vocal chords were sore. When that happened, you switched to punching your pillow. With every hit, the tight ball of anxiety in your chest eased up slightly, until you only felt exhausted and numb.  
___

You were sitting at the table, drumming your fingers against the surface as you stared mindlessly at the wall. Like always. The meager conversations you had with the Stormtrooper who brought you food everyday were nice, but they never lasted more than a minute and were always awkward. You suspected they disliked and were confused that you talked to them, but if they only _knew_ the torture of being constantly alone with nothing to do, they would understand why you talked to people who represented what you hated. 

However, when the door opened and an unknown man walked through, flanked by the two ‘Troopers who guarded your room, you had absolutely no desire to speak with him. Alarm bells were ringing in your head just after looking at him once. He was clearly a high-ranking officer within the Order, and you racked your brain trying to figure out who exactly he was. Despite your best efforts not to let your guard down, your extended time alone with little mental stimulation left your brain foggy and slow. And you were feeling the direct effect of this isolation right now, as you were unable to identify this man, let alone figure out why he was here. 

Surely if he was visiting you, he had to be important. But the knowledge of just _how_ important he was escaped you. 

The ginger man looked down his nose at you, his pale eyes clearly scrutinizing you. Judging you. Determining your worth. 

What did he see?

“So you’re Ren’s new pet.” Okay, question answered. 

“I’m not a pet.” 

“A toy, then. It’s more fitting- they aren’t particularly useful, either. Why he wants to keep you around is beyond me.” You blink at him, gleaning the most important piece of information from what he had said. Or rather, what he hadn’t said.

No one knows that you are Kylo Ren’s soulmate. 

Only time would reveal whether or not this would work in or against your favor, and you certainly weren’t going to find out by showing your hand this early on. After all, who would you tell? And more importantly, who would believe you? 

As you thought through this, you kept your face schooled into a slightly confused stare focused right above his shoulder. At least he couldn’t read your mind. All you had to do was pretend like you had no idea what was happening (which, aside from your connection to Ren, was your actual situation). 

“We’ve been trying to find out more about you.” 

“We?”

He continued on as if you hadn’t spoken, the only indication that he had heard you was the miniscule pause in his speech where you’d interrupted. 

“I’m curious as to why we are wasting resources keeping you alive.” He raised his light eyebrows, as if inviting you to clue him in on the secret. _Not gonna happen._

“And have you found anything?”

“No.” He said, before smirking. “No, we have no information on you. Because to us, you are nothing. You are not noteworthy enough for us to care. So again, I’m left wondering why you are here.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to ask Kylo Ren that? I have no choice in the matter.” _What is it with people asking questions you don’t have the answer to?_

He scowled at this, the movement looking quite natural on his face. But the emotion is gone after a second, replaced with a blank, bored look. You recognized it as a carefully practiced expression to indicate that he doesn’t care about what is happening at any given moment. 

“I’d be careful if I were you. Ren has an awful habit of breaking his toys.” 

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” You said. He hummed in response

And with that, as quickly as he had entered the room, he was gone, leaving you wondering why he had even bothered to visit you if all he had wanted was to scope you out.

Odd.  
___

They say that being in the presence of one’s soulmate leaves the two feeling calm, both their hearts and minds resting from the stress of life. 

You decided within two seconds of Kylo Ren’s first visit to you on Starkiller that this was the greatest lie you had ever been told. If anything, his presence only amplified all the stress you had been feeling. You stared at the man before you, his imposing figure seemingly out of place in your sparsely furnished lodging. 

He hadn’t warned you that he was going to be visiting… _ever_ , so when the blast door hissed open and he walked into the room, you were a little surprised. You sat up, hoping he hadn’t seen you laying in bed, creating invisible drawings in the air above your head. How would he have reacted, though, had you been practicing fighting, as you did often to maintain a semblance of physical activity? 

You could feel his eyes on you as you got up, suddenly uncomfortable sitting down. 

So now you both were standing, staring at each other. Though, you were still uncertain exactly how to tell where he was looking at any given moment. But you just assumed now. 

Unlike with your previous conversation, you decided to break the silence first, disliking the awkward tension that was starting to build between the two of you. And though you were definitely afraid of him, you didn’t like letting him so clearly intimidate you into submission. 

“Thank you.” You looked away from him, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear to give yourself something to do instead of staring at him. Despite not looking at him, you can still feel his eyes continue to stare at you, practically boring a hole in your head. “Um… for the room. It’s... nice.”

You winced at the hesitation in your voice. _So much for not being intimidated into submission._ What happened to the brave girl from the Finalizer? 

You risked a glance at Kylo Ren, giving him another moment to respond. 

Nothing.

“Although, there isn’t much to do and I was wondering if there was any way that I could… do something productive?” Might as well cut right to the chase. You didn’t know when you’d see him again, and he was the only person with the power to alleviate some of the monotony. 

“Not unless you’re willing to join the First Order,” He responded, finally speaking to you. 

“No!” You were firm in your denial, the shakiness in your voice gone. “Never.” 

“Then there isn’t anything that you can do.”

“There aren’t even books that I could read?” You knew that books were hard to come by, most people preferring the ease of datapads. But you were reluctant to ask for anything, let alone an item that could be seen as a luxury. Asking for books seemed less demanding. Part of you screamed that you shouldn’t ask him for anything, that you should do nothing to be in his debt, but the disdain you had for your constant boredom overwhelmed it. 

You could still hate him with a book in your hands. 

“No.”

“Why are you even keeping me alive?”

“You are a guest of the First Order.” 

“Can I leave, then?”

“No.”

“Then I’m a prisoner.” _A prisoner who is not worth the resources to keep alive._

“Would you rather move to the cells?” He moved closer to you now, finally stepping out of the door. With the two of you on equal footing, you were able to fully see the differences in your sizes. For every step he took, you took two steps back, trying to maintain your distance from the man. But the room was not big enough to sustain this strange dance, and soon your back was against the wall. 

He wasn’t close enough that you had to crane your neck to look him in the face, but he was definitely close enough that the miniscule amount of comfort you could have possibly felt around him quickly dissipated. 

“Can I see your face?”

“...No.”

You were really starting to hate that word, the way he said it. Short, clipped. As if he had better things to do than talk to you. 

_He probably does,_ the unhelpful voice in your mind whispers. _Well, why doesn’t he just go do those things then,_ you responded, mentally frowning at yourself. 

“Am I ever going to see it?”

“Maybe.” 

“Why-” 

“You ask too many questions.” He moved away from you, heading back to the door. He was clearly finished with the conversation. You, however, were not. 

“Maybe I wouldn’t ask so many questions if I knew what was going on.” He stopped and slowly turned to face you again. 

“You think you’re deserving of that?”

“As your soulmate, yes, I do think I deserve that!”

“That means nothing to me. I don’t need a soulmate.” His voice was tense, as if he was speaking through gritted teeth. Though you didn’t know what he looked like, you could imagine how tight he must have been holding his jaw for his voice to come across that stressed through the vocoder. 

“Then why am I still here?” You said, all of your frustration and anger about the way your life had been changed by the man in front of you clearly expressed in your voice. “Why are you bothering to keep me alive? If you don’t need a soulmate, then just _kill me._ ” 

Kylo Ren stopped. Every part of him was still, his gloved hands balled into fists. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he’d stopped breathing. 

But instead, _you_ stopped breathing. 

Your mind raced to catch up with what had just happened. No, your sudden inability to draw breath was not your own doing, was not your brain playing a trick on you, was not your nervousness causing your heart to skip a beat. It was as if a tight hand had abruptly grabbed your throat, gripping and pressing against your skin with all its strength, preventing you from even being able to gasp. 

Kylo Ren’s arm was no longer at his side, his hand now outstretched towards you. The only noise that managed to escape you was barely more than a whimper, tiny, pathetic, and feeble. You clawed at your throat, even though you knew that the phantom hold would not ease until he willed it to. 

“Is that what you want?” You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. It was only when black spots started to cloud your vision and your head was both heavy and weightless that he released you. Your knees crashed to the floor as you gasped, greedily filling your lungs with the cold, stale air of your room. “Do you want me to kill you?” 

There were no emotions in his voice. 

Did he have any emotions at all? 

“No, please.” Broken. You sounded broken. Your hands shook, and you stared at them to avoid focusing on him, your body slowly starting to cave in on itself towards the floor. How desperately you wanted to be alone again, the mundanity of your life much preferable to this. But instead of leaving, as you so badly wished he would, he moved closer to you. Every step he took was like a blaster shot to the stomach. 

“Look at me.” 

You kept your eyes glued to the floor. Even if you had wanted to move your head, you couldn’t. It was as if the part of your brain that worked to protect you from danger didn’t recognize that the smart decision here would be to listen to him, to follow what he wanted you to do. 

_“Look at me.”_ He repeated himself. This time, you shook your head. The movement was so small, you doubted he’d even noticed you’d done it. He was so close to you now. When he was close to you, you couldn’t think, couldn’t process any thought aside from the voice screaming at you to _get away from him_. You recognized that he did this as another way to intimidate you, make you crumple even further. And despite yourself, it was working. 

But you still refused to look up. 

Then the time frame where you could obey him passed, and you wondered if he would bother to repeat himself once more. 

He didn’t.

Using the tip of his boot, he wrenched your chin upwards. The leather was rough on your skin, and your neck pinched from being forced into craning to look up at him. He stared down at you. You blinked back up at him, and, before you could fully process what you were about to do and the complete stupidity of it, spat on his boot. Due to the angle of your head, more of it landed on your own chin than actually _on_ him, but your intent was clear. 

_Fuck you._

He lunged downwards, grabbing your chin in his hand this time. His helmet was so close, you could practically hear his ragged breathing through it, the noise barely discernible through the voice modifier.

“Don’t test me.” He said, voice low. He pushed you to the ground, standing once more before turning to leave. As he walked out, as swiftly as he had entered, you focused on the hand that had just grabbed you, had Force-choked you earlier. Watching as it clenched into a fist, and then flexed back out. Over and over again until he was gone, the blast door hissing shut behind him.  
___

“Do Stormtroopers have friends?” You asked, eyeing the ‘Trooper who was collecting the meager amount of trash you have accumulated over the past week. He looked over at you, as if surprised that you were able to see him or that you bothered to talk to him. You raised your eyebrows and he looked away again before picking up the small trash receptacle. 

“Of course we have friends.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “Is it nice?”

“What?”

You shrugged. “Having people to talk to.”

“Do Resistance fighters not have friends?”

“We do. I just thought…” You trailed off, before shrugging. “I don’t know. I did have friends, yeah. But you know how sometimes it feels like you're not the first choice friend? Like, I wonder if anyone really misses me right now.” You didn’t mean to let out all the insecurities you had buried deep inside, but something about this Stormtrooper made you trust him. As much as you could trust a Stormtrooper, anyway. 

“I’m sure someone does.”

“You have a lot of compassion for a Stormtrooper.” You said, watching him move to collect your laundry. They had provided three identical sets of clothing in addition to the pair you were given on the Finalizer, and you thanked your lucky stars that they were actually going to wash them this time. 

“That’s not exactly a good thing.” 

“Compassion is not a bad thing to have.” 

“Maybe in the Resistance it isn’t. But here…” It’s his turn to trail off and shrug, echoing your earlier movements. 

You just hummed in response, suddenly ready to be alone once more. You’re both silent until he left, and you realized that you’ve been unknowingly tracing the soulmark on your wrist. Jerking your hand away, you stare at the words for a second before pulling your sleeve over the skin. 

_Out of sight, out of mind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I joke around that I’m incapable of writing something without including a bath scene but look! A shower scene instead. 
> 
> I just think they're neat. 
> 
> I wanted to add another Kylo scene but I was really pleased with the one that ended up in here and didn't want to add something that lessened whatever impact the first one may have had. 
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely day/night. i love u. my tumblr is summercourtship if u want. ♡♡♡


	3. Chapter 3

Thinking about every single thing Kylo Ren had ever said to you seemed to be your new hobby. 

In the morning, you would think back on your first two meetings, on the Finalizer. There weren’t many details in those conversations that you hadn’t already obsessed over, trying to find any hidden meanings laced in his words. But, as far as you figured, there weren’t any to be found. 

In the afternoon, you would ruminate on the meetings you’d had here, on Starkiller. He had only been back twice since his first eventful visit, both times unexciting and short. He would barely speak when you saw him, and you would say only a few pleasantries, and perhaps make a comment about your eternal boredom. He always ignored the latter, and seemed to only tolerate the former. You’d long since stopped questioning his reasons for keeping you alive, let alone for keeping you around, when he didn’t appear to particularly _want_ to. 

At night, you would wonder what else could happen, how else he would manage to find his way under your skin and occupy more space in your mind. He wasn’t unpredictable, per se, but while his motives and face remained hidden you wouldn’t be able to get a good read on him. Your guesswork was no better than the soothsayers who would crop up in dusty trading ports, claiming to be able to see the future and tell your fortune. At least they got paid for their efforts. 

All you got for yours was mush. 

There was no variation in the food they brought you, just as there was no variation in the schedule. As soon as your chronometer flicked to 1700, the blast door would open and a Stormtrooper would walk through with the same tray, same plate, same _mush._ The only change in this routine was which Stormtrooper brought it to you. It alternated between your two guards, the woman you had talked to your first day and another one who has never uttered a word to you. 

They, like Kylo Ren, ignored any snarky comments you had for them. Despite the lack of reaction, however, you didn’t stop, taking advantage of whatever form of amusement you could. 

You watched from your bed as the chronometer changed to 1658. 

Two minutes until slop.

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. As much as you looked forward to the act of being _given_ the food, you dreaded actually having to _eat_ it. 

Sometimes, when you were younger and didn’t want to do something, you would hold your breath until your face turned red. You never succeeded in actually passing out, as was the threat, but maybe with your increased adult lung capacity you could achieve self-induced fainting. 

Morbid curiosity. 

_What else were you going to do with your abundance of free time?_

Holding your breath, you continued watching the chronometer, which was now a minute further. In the noiselessness, not even breathing, your ears perked at a faint sound, so faint that you almost believed it didn’t exist.

_**Chirrp. Beep. Beeep. Piiing.**_

And the blast door opened, the same two Stormtroopers walked in, mush ready for you to eat. But as you tried to discreetly catch your breath, you couldn’t be bothered to talk to them, your head swimming. If it was from the lack of oxygen or the realization that was slowly dawning on you, you weren’t sure.

The code that they had punched into the keypad on the other side of the door made four distinct sounds.

Now _that_. That was interesting.  
___

You examined the keypad by your door, secured into the wall at shoulder height. You’d looked at it before, never for long, afraid of someone entering the room unexpectedly and being caught red-handed, unable to defend yourself against whatever accusation would come your way. But General Hux, the man whose identity had escaped you when he visited, had not been back since. And Kylo Ren’s visits were randomly timed, but you trusted your gut feeling that today was not a day he planned on visiting. The only people who consistently visited you were the Stormtroopers who brought you food and got your trash, respectively. 

But, needless to say, you were now comfortable in the routine that had been established after almost two weeks of staying on Starkiller. Comfortable enough that you could now toy around with the keypad to try and figure out exactly which buttons created the blips and pings you’d heard yesterday.

To try and figure out which buttons would open the door.

Though you knew that this experiment’s chance of success was slim, you were eager to start messing around and actually utilize your intelligence for once. But you couldn’t rush into this. You had no idea if there were a set amount of tries before either the keypad shut down or a guard was alerted, and you weren’t keen on finding out. You also couldn’t risk the guards standing outside your door becoming privy to your actions. 

Although, if even Kylo Ren, someone who clearly had no qualms about killing people for little reason, wouldn’t kill you, you had at least a small amount of faith that if you _were_ caught, you would be able to make it out alive. But that didn’t mean you shouldn’t be as cautious as possible. 

You started by just pressing each key, listening carefully to the sound it created. Certain keys were easy to eliminate immediately, their chimes deafening in the quiet room. However, despite your confidence and excitement going into this endeavor, you quickly lost steam.

It wasn’t before long that you just wanted to hit the keypad with your fist, every single tone of the keypad blending together. 

Why did you think this would work?

In frustration, you mashed the keys, creating a jarring, dissonant tone. You flinched back, ready to give up, turn around, and crawl into bed.

But then, much to your surprise, the blast door opened. 

Adding to this shock was the complete and utter lack of guards standing outside your door, as you had been informed on your first day there would be. 

Distantly, you recognized that something was definitely wrong here- there was no reality in which the door would both open and be unguarded. _A trap. It has to somehow be a trap._

Or an opportunity for freedom. 

A gift that you shouldn’t question, and instead just _take._

You couldn’t afford to waste time, not now that you had an open window for escape. Barely stopping to shove your feet into your boots, you rushed out the door. 

The hallway was empty of Stormtroopers and other First Order officers. You had a vague sense of what direction you were facing, and coupled with your recollection of how you had been led down these halls when you first arrived, you started slowly in one direction, keeping your footsteps light and sticking to the walls. 

Whenever you would come across a turn, you peek around the corners. If you can distantly make out figures, you didn’t turn that way… obviously. Likewise, whenever you found a staircase, you moved upwards. You repeated this cycle as many times as you could until you happened upon a door. 

This particular door did not need a passcode to get through. And judging by how the thick durasteel was freezing to the touch, this door led to the outside.

Wrenching it open, you were hit in the face with a blast of air- real, fresh air. 

The first thought that crossed your mind when you stepped out onto the surface was shock at how cold it was. You knew it was a snowy planet, had remembered the drafty hallways when you’d arrived, but this cold was bitter and biting, immediately sinking into your bones. The clothes you had on were not going to help shield you from the wind, and your boots were already starting to become uncomfortably damp. 

Carefully, you shut the door behind you. Looking at the vast, empty wilderness in front of you, it was hard to believe that there was an entire base below you, thousands of people living and working beneath your feet. 

There was a significant difference between the forced isolation you had been living in and the solitude you felt on the surface of Starkiller. You idly walked around, taking in the bleak scenery, as if you were nothing more than a visiting tourist. 

Lots of snow.

Some trees.

Rocks.

More snow.

More rocks.

Aside from the- now tiny- metal outcrop that had led to the surface, there were no signs of human life. Any life. From where you stood, the planet was seemingly barren.

...Perhaps this hadn’t been the best idea. You had no idea how you would even get off the planet. Even if you didn’t have less-than-mediocre piloting skills, you were on the surface, not at the docking bay- which was, you reminded yourself, constantly full of people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. Even the engineers could probably kill you if they were determined enough.

But then, had you even wanted to get off the planet in the first place? Or had you simply wanted to flee the monotony, if just for a few hours, or even minutes? Just to have something else to do? Or were you more like a captured animal, running at the first opportunity to escape without a second thought?

And much like a captured animal, you knew that you would, eventually, wander back to the place where you were safe. Or, at least, where you were warm. 

The wind whipped around you, stinging your cheeks and bringing tears to your eyes. You stood still, breathing in the frozen air as your fingers slowly went numb, so cold they felt warm.

And then, like a lightning bolt running through your veins, heat thawing your frigid limbs, you knew. 

_He’s here._

You didn’t know where he was, where he would be coming at you from, and didn’t take the time to figure out how you knew he was around before you took off running, bolting through the frosted underbrush, not caring how much noise you made as you fought to put space between you. You were practically leaping through the snow, trying to avoid making large footsteps- both so tracking you would be harder, and so that you didn’t have to constantly wrench your feet out from the trenches they made. Ultimately, this would prove futile- but that didn’t stop you from trying. Nothing stopped you from trying.

You were glancing behind you, trying to discern whether he was following you closely in the darkness, whether he was tracking you, hunting you. It felt like every other step you took, you were looking over your shoulder, every snap of a twig or rustling of a branch causing your anxiety to spike. 

And it was with icy shock that you realized he wasn’t behind you.

No, when you turned your head back around after looking behind again, he was _in front_ of you. 

Whether you had run in a circle, or if he had managed to somehow get ahead of you, you were unsure of. Kylo Ren stood, a black blot on the white landscape, the trees and snow covered rocks the only things taller than him. His robes lashed in the air around him, his whole being radiating power. Authority. 

“Fuck.” You breathed, your words a cloud in the air, before spinning around and running away in the opposite direction. You couldn’t outrun him- you knew this. But there were no team members for you to consider here, there were no others to keep out of danger, the thought of them preventing you from doing anything foolish. You only had yourself and seemingly little self-preservation instinct left. 

You didn’t bother looking behind you to see if he followed anymore. You knew he would be.

A predator stalking his prey.

In a cruel parallel to what had led to your initial capture, your foot caught on a rock that had been hidden in the snow. The fall reawakened the pain in your knee when it landed harshly on the cold stone, the rough surface tearing the fabric of your pants and splitting open your skin. You gasped in shock at the impact, at the pain. The knee had already been aching since you’d started running, presumably from sudden strenuous use after weeks of relative disuse. You also suspected it hadn’t quite healed right, either, after having been strapped down while it was still in the process of healing. Now it was an open wound, bleeding and raw. 

But instead of lying in the snow and waiting for your fate, you scrambled back to your feet before starting off again. _Grit your teeth and deal with the pain later._ As you continued to stumble, pressing and pushing off of trees to give you a speed boost, blood staining your path with red, you could hear Kylo Ren approaching. 

He said your name, the modified voice loud in the still night. 

You shiver, the cold not entirely at fault. 

“Stop running,” _Stop chasing me, then._ If he had been running to catch up with you, his voice did not betray it. It was even, calm, unaffected. You stopped, more due to exhaustion and pain than because of his order. 

“I want to be alone.” It was a weak lie, and he saw through it immediately. But you couldn’t be bothered to try and think of some other reason for your running, for your pathetic attempt at an escape. There _were_ no reasons. 

“What would you call your time in your room?” You kicked a bit of loose snow by your boot, wanting to ignore his question but knowing that it would do you no good.

“...Forced isolation.” He scoffed at your answer, and you whirled around to face him, trying not to visibly wince when your leg complained- rather loudly- at the movement. “It’s not exactly like I chose to be locked away in a tiny room with nothing to do. Or chose to even be here, at all.”

“You forget that you are my prisoner.”

“And here I was, thinking that I was a guest of the First Order, not _you_ specifically.” You spat back, echoing back his words from before, from that meeting in your room where he had intimidated you so easily. Would he be able to do that again, out in this wilderness? 

“If it weren’t for me, you would have been executed weeks ago.” 

“Am I supposed to be grateful that you haven’t killed me yet?” _Like it’s incredibly challenging to just not kill someone?_

“I would have been well within my rights to kill you after you _asked._ But I didn’t.”

An aggressive part of you wanted nothing more than to just pick up a handful of snow and lob it at his stupid helmet covered face, but the quieter, much more rational part of you knew that would be incredibly reckless. Impossibly stupid. 

Like asking for death from someone who wouldn’t hesitate to end your life. 

“Don’t pretend like you suddenly care about me. You won’t even let me see your face.” 

He doesn’t answer.

“I don’t even care anymore. Keep me locked away for no apparent reason and wear that helmet for the rest of your life, whatever. It doesn’t matter to me.” You sat down on a nearby rock, the surface cold and rough under you. The dampness sinking into the seat of your pants from the rock made you seriously reconsider sitting there, but your pride kept you firmly seated. _You were making a point, damn it._

He said nothing. You watched him, waiting for whatever snide remark he was going to throw at you, fulfilling his desire to always have the upper hand. But even as the seconds dragged on, he didn’t say anything. 

Until finally, he responded. But not by speaking. 

Instead, he slowly reached up to the sides of his helmet. Pressing his fingers into the ridges that ran along the surface, the latches on the side of the helmet released with a rush of air and he removed it, dropping it into the snow with a dull thud. Revealing himself to you. 

You gaped at him, stunned into silence. Oh no. Oh no no no.

_This might complicate things._

“I thought you didn’t care.”

_There’s_ the snide remark. The slight smugness in his voice- no longer hindered by the mechanical tones of the modifier in his helmet- grated your nerves, and the anger you’d almost forgotten after the shock of seeing his face came rushing back. 

So you decide to screw the rational part of your brain. You bent down and, simultaneously standing from the rock and grabbing a chunk of snow, threw it in his direction. Before the snow can even come close to hitting him, he unsheathes and ignites his lightsaber, moving to deflect the misshapen ball. It immediately melts, and if you had blinked you would’ve thought it had just disappeared into thin air. 

He wouldn’t even let you hit him with _snow._ Wouldn’t even let you have one singular, tiny moment of advantage over him. Huffing in anger, you picked up another handful of snow, ignoring how your knee screamed at you to stop. He twists his wrist and the lightsaber flashes once again, ice hissing as it melts on contact. Twice more you repeat this assault, and both times he blocks it with his weapon. Vaguely, you wonder how much longer he will allow you to do this. You didn’t even want to hurt him, just needed some way to express your complete frustration and helplessness. 

When you realize there are no more chunks of ice and snow to fling at him, you let your arms fall pathetically back at your side, suddenly lost, slowly becoming numb. He watches you, his face as unreadable as his helmet. 

Any anger you had felt quickly fled at the sight of him standing in the snow, his lightsaber the only source of light aside from the glow of the distant moon. The hissing and crackling of the blade now filled the silence that had fallen between the two of you, the silence that _always_ seemed to exist between the two of you. Your eyes flicked back and forth between his weapon and his face, really taking in the way the lightsaber’s red glare reflected off of his strong features. When he’d first taken off his helmet, you had been surprised, your first impression of his face sending danger signals through your brain. But you hadn’t taken the time to actually _look_ at him, too busy with your own frustration to focus on his appearance. 

He was… decidedly not what you’d expected. 

Before, you had tried, in vain, not to wonder what he looked like. But even when tiny fragmented images had formed in your mind without your conscious consent, they were nothing close to the truth. 

He was handsome. Younger than you’d expected. His eyes were dark, but whether that was due to their own coloring or the shadows that danced across his face you were unsure. 

While you were observing him, like he had observed you so many times before, he moved, not bothering to put his lightsaber away. Slowly coming closer to you, as if you actually _were_ an escaped animal. As if any sudden movement would cause you to lash out. But he wasn’t afraid- what did he have to even be afraid of? No, he moved as if you were the one who was afraid and he didn’t want you to scamper away, back to the woods from whence you came. 

And a part of you _was_ scared. Terrified. But unlike the fear you’d had since you arrived, the fear that was necessary for you to survive, you didn’t recognize this unease, this anxiety. 

“You’re shivering.” His voice brought you out of your thoughts, back to the present where you were, most definitely, shivering.

“I’m fine.” You ground the words out, trying to force your teeth to stop chattering by keeping your jaw tense. 

“Why did you run? You must have known you wouldn’t be able to escape.” 

“The door opened.” You shrugged, as if it were the most obvious answer in the galaxy. “Wouldn’t you have taken the chance?”

“Yes, but I would have actually succeeded.”

“I’m not incompetent.” Sure, you may not be a battle-hardened warrior. But that didn’t mean that you had no skills, and you wanted to point out the fact that you had even _made_ it to the surface as a testament to your capability.

You barely catch his eyebrow quirk, the practically indescribable movement betraying his amusement at your response. 

“I’m not.” You’d meant to sound assured, a woman confident in her abilities. But instead you sounded small, your voice a whisper. “I didn’t want to escape. I just… I just wanted to breathe.” 

_I think I’m suffocating, and your proximity isn’t helping._

The space between the two of you plunged into darkness, and it took you a moment to realize that he finally put his lightsaber away. As your eyes adjusted back to the darkness, he moved closer still, no longer needing to account for the danger his weapon posed. 

When he was but a step away, he looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed. You could barely make out his features in the dark. If his proximity was stifling before, you were now drowning, unable to even think clearly except to acknowledge his closeness. You start to move back, to give yourself a fraction of control, but he reached out and grabbed your arm. Despite the layers of fabric between you, the place where his hand met your arm stung as if he had burned you with his touch. But before either of you do anything more, before you could even react, he took a step back, releasing you. Breaking the spell, scaring away whatever vulnerability had managed to surface. 

He looked you in the eye once more, his face now completely devoid of emotion as he lazily gestured at you, waving over your eyes. 

“Sleep.”

And so you slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to not acknowledge when I think things I write are contrived/stupid but like,, the whole "how mc escapes" thing is stupid and an arbitrary contrivance for plot furthering. I know this, and I accept this. 
> 
> Side note: I started classes for Spring 2021 yesterday! I am taking 18 credit hours this semester, but I am hoping to maintain the weekly updates! But, if there are any delays in my posting, this is why. 
> 
> Anyway, I love you all, and I hope you all have a wonderful day/night and rest of your week! Stay safe out there. ♡♡♡


	4. Chapter 4

It’s a lot easier to hate someone when you have no idea what they look like. 

Contrariwise, it’s significantly harder when your brain is constantly screaming about how attractive they are, despite your best efforts to pointedly _not think about it_. 

Add that to said attractive person being your soulmate and well. Your mind was, understandably, racing. 

You’d woken in your bed after being put to sleep by Kylo Ren, and you cataloged that away in the tiny mental box you had labeled _Things That Kylo Ren Can Do, Apparently._ Your knowledge of the Force was, admittedly, very lacking. But even with the limited knowledge you had, you suspected that Kylo Ren had many more abilities than you could ever fathom. 

Your knee had been healed, presumably by someone from the medbay while you were unconscious. There weren’t even any scars on your skin, which was a strong testament to the First Order’s medical care, though you could swear that it still felt less stable than it had before. The pants that you had fallen on and torn were gone, the access panel and keypad you had managed to bypass replaced, and it was as if you had never even left your room in the first place.

The only thing that had changed, really, were your thoughts surrounding Kylo Ren. You still hated him, _obviously_ , but knowing that he was truly human and alive underneath his helmet, that somewhere he had a beating heart, left you conflicted. 

Did it even make sense to continue trying to hate him when the universe had apparently decided that you were to be bound to one another? What was the point in fighting against him when it didn’t even matter, when you were literally made for each other? 

_Maybe the universe made a mistake._

It would make sense. 

The universe, in its infinite wisdom, had made a mistake. One mistake. And it just so happened to involve you. 

Nope, that was stupid. No one has ever been mistakenly matched- not that you’d heard of. Were there times where people never met their soulmate due to a freak accident? Yes, but those were extremely rare- almost unheard of. “ _They wouldn’t be your soulmate if you weren’t ever going to meet each other,_ ” Your mother would say when you would worry out loud to her, stroking your hair in front of the fire while you traced your soulmark. 

But how much longer could you sustain your hatred for him when he seemed to constantly occupy your thoughts, when even your dreams from the last few nights revolved around him? You wished that you could know what he was thinking, what he was feeling at any given moment. He was hard to read, with or without his helmet, and you were suffering for it. 

But as far as you could tell, he had no intentions of letting you go or killing you to put you both out of your misery. He had every semblance of control in your relationship and fighting against it didn’t seem to be working. So, you could either dig your heels in further and continue to make yourself miserable, or you could try to cooperate. 

Not a lot. Just a little. Just enough so that _maybe_ you can have a conversation with Kylo Ren that didn’t make you feel like you’d been standing in a raging storm for twenty minutes. Just enough so you could maybe- _maybe-_ figure out what would make the two of your souls compatible. 

And after that, you had no idea what you would do. When you’d finally figured out why you were made for him- and him made for you- you would figure out your next steps. And you had a feeling- _a good feeling_ \- that that wouldn’t occur for a very long time.  
___

Kylo Ren strode into the room, his gait confident and strong. Nothing out of the usual, then. You stumbled to your feet from where you had been sitting on the ground, attempting to meditate. Without any fanfare, he simply sat down at the small table, gesturing towards the other seat. 

“Sit.” 

Warily, you obeyed. 

He removed his helmet, placing it on the table between you. Up close, you could see faint scuff marks on the surface. This helmet was not just an accessory; this helmet had seen- and survived- battle. You met his eyes, able to actually really see them now, their color no longer hidden by darkness. 

They were brown, a beautiful brown. Dark and intense, but occasionally, a bit of light would catch on the gold flecks in them, painting his eyes into a liquid amber. 

Somehow, sitting across from him at a tiny metal table felt more intimidating than when you had been strapped into the interrogation chair. Your chair creaked under you as you shifted self-consciously, trying to get comfortable under his gaze. 

“Let’s talk.” Even without his vocoder, his voice was deep and commanding. For a moment, you were going to go along with what he wanted, agree to comply. But then you really thought about it and realized that talking to him would only lead to one thing.

“...No.” You said it as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. So much for cooperating. Kylo Ren barely furrowed his brow, but otherwise remained stoic. 

“No?”

“No. If I talk to you, it will end up turning into another argument, and I really don’t want to do that right now.” _Plus, I’m tired of letting you win._ “You still haven’t given me answers to any of the questions I’ve asked- the important ones, that is. I’m not giving you another opportunity to make me feel like shit while simultaneously keeping me as ignorant as possible.”

He lifted his chin. Though you wanted to, you refused to pull your eyes away from his. You both stare at one another, unblinking before he lowers his head, sighing softly. 

“You can ask one question.”

It was more than you’d been expecting from him. A multitude of questions tumbled around in your mind, some you’d asked before and some you’d been too scared to even try. But out of all the possible questions you could’ve asked at this moment, the one that left your mouth was not one that you had intended upon, or even known you’d wanted to ask.

“Where’s your soulmark?”

“That’s not important.” It was immediate. It wasn’t unexpected- he tended to avoid even acknowledging that you were his soulmate. But his refusal to give you even a crumb of information was made worse by the fact that he had _allowed_ you to ask him a question. Why bother to let you think that you would finally have an answer only to refuse when he didn’t like it?

At least you hadn’t asked for First Order secrets. He should appreciate that you pretended to not care about the going-ons of your enemy, instead of innocently batting your eyelashes and trying to pry their plans from him, gain something to take back to the Resistance.

Attempting to do that was, after all, what had led to you sitting across from Kylo Ren in a tiny room that had no personality, no life, and, as you had learned, no escape. 

“It’s important to me.” You retorted, unwilling to give up on this yet. 

“It shouldn’t be.”

“You said you’d answer me.”

“I said you could ask me one question, not that I would answer.” 

You sighed in frustration. Asinine. This whole conversation was asinine. Fine, you’d try a different question, one that was as impersonal as possible. 

“Is there a reason that I was even able to get out, the other day?” _As if there were another day you could be referring to._

“No.” 

“It wasn’t a trap? Why weren’t there any guards?” 

“At a mandatory assembly. You got lucky.”

“Lucky?” You didn’t quite believe him but dropped it once he gave you a look. _You ask too many questions._ It seemed so long ago that he had said that to you. Since then, you had built up a litany of more questions, although you doubted you would ever find out the answer to even a fraction of them, let alone the most important ones. 

It was now his turn to ask you a question.

“You say you’re bored. What have you been doing when you haven’t been occupied with futile attempts at escape?” 

“Nothing.” _Thinking about you._ He occupied a larger place in your thoughts than you’d ever admit to anyone, let alone yourself. But you couldn’t deny that you spent a sizable portion of your time with thoughts of him, especially once he revealed his face to you. But if he was going to dodge every single one of your questions, you could do the same for him.

“Is that so?”

“You didn’t exactly give me much else to do.” 

He sat back in his chair, and you realized that you had both been sitting forward, almost leaning into the center of the table. You adjusted yourself as well, but didn’t mirror his relaxed stance, instead choosing to sit straight and tall. He was clearly thinking, and you wished once more that you could be privy to his thoughts. 

“If you have a datapad, will you stay put?” He had managed to surprise you again. You blink in surprise, trying to dissuade yourself from smiling at the prospect of having something to fill your time. You couldn’t look too pleased at this turn of events. 

“I can promise that a datapad will curb any escape attempts for at least two weeks.” _After that, I cannot promise you anything, Kylo Ren._

He clearly wasn’t satisfied with your answer. 

“And what would you need to dissuade you from _ever_ getting out again?”

“Ideally, letting me leave would be the best way to ensure that I won’t try to escape.” It was partially an attempt at a joke, but you knew that deep down inside you were asking him, for the first time in such plain words, to just let you go. It was, admittedly, a long shot. 

“No.” His answer, once again, was immediate and expected. That didn’t mean that hearing the refusal didn’t sting a bit. But even worse than that was the tiny change you’d noticed in him. 

Sitting slightly more tensed, his one hand that had rested on the table balled into a fist. His jaw was set, and he was looking at you in a way that simultaneously made your heart skip a beat and your stomach drop. Everything about him was intense and entirely focused on _you_. In less than a second, the energy in the room had gone from a quiet calm to a raging fire, and you knew that if you weren’t quick to diffuse it, it would blow up in your face.

“Okay, then.” You said, now only wanting to snuff the potentially dangerous spark of anger that was barely contained in his eyes. You knew, both from whispers among Resistance fighters and previous experience, that Kylo Ren was prone to sudden bouts of anger. And that he was destructive when in these bouts of anger, not bothering to keep his emotions restrained. And though you may not know why, you realized that even discussing you actually leaving was enough to potentially trigger this. 

“Okay, I would like better food.” You continued, steering the subject away from the dangerous topic of your leaving. 

“A datapad and food?”

“Am I in a position to ask for more than that?” You were not a particularly _needy_ person. But there were things you missed while being in isolation. Soft blankets. Nice socks. The ability to look outside. The ability to _go_ outside. You didn’t know how likely you’d be to gain those back, though. 

“No. But I am surprised you aren’t attempting to bargain for more.” 

_Bargain._ Perhaps your extended time alone really had dulled your intelligence, because you only now put together exactly what it was you were doing while sitting across from him. 

“Wait, am I making negotiations with the First Order?”

“You are making negotiations with me.” 

“In exchange for what?” What could he possibly take that he hadn’t already? He’d already as much as secured an agreement that you wouldn’t break out again (which you really doubted you’d be able to manage a second time, considering the first time was entirely coincidental). 

“Your obedience.”

“Obedience.” You repeated, voice flat. 

“Yes. No more running off, no more blatant defiance.”

“You’re trying to buy my free will? You’ve already locked me up, again.” You gestured to the room around you. While certainly better than what most First Order prisoners were afforded, they weren’t exactly the height of luxury. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t strap you back into the interrogation chair.”

“Congratulations, you did the bare minimum. You expect me to kiss your boots just because you didn’t tie me down?” 

“No, but I expect you not to _spit_ on them.” Oh. Right. That was a thing you had done. Heat flooded your cheeks, suddenly embarrassed that he brought up your feeble attempt at rebellion. 

You thought for a moment. “Instead of obedience, how about I be docile. Subdued.” 

He chuckled. “That’s not how this works. I get your obedience, or you get nothing.” 

You whined. Were you really about to submit to him for nothing more than some books and better food?

“Fine. But the food better be damn good.” 

Yes. It seemed you were.  
___

“How did you become a Stormtrooper?” 

“Are you interested?” The Stormtrooper who gathered your trash and laundry paused in his work, looking over at you. 

“Nope.” He turned back to what he was doing.

“I was born into it. We all are.” 

“Oh.” You’d figured there had been some form of conscription but from birth? “That sucks.”

The Stormtrooper doesn’t answer- probably can’t answer. You realize you don’t know his name- do they have names? So many questions, and there was no one willing to give you answers.

“Being born into something, especially if it's not something you want… seems awful.” You said. He shrugged. You didn’t say anything more, afraid of both keeping him too long and saying something that would put him in trouble with his superiors. You watched the Stormtrooper leave, absentmindedly picking at your nails. 

Kylo Ren may be able to prevent your execution for being nothing more than Resistance scum, but you doubted that inciting a rebellion among the Stormtroopers would keep him on your side.

_If he’s even on my side to being with._   
___

The next time you saw Kylo Ren, he walked into your room, spoke two words, once again muffled by his voice modifier, and walked back out, the door gaping open behind him. 

“Follow me.”

Barely even processing his words, you rushed out of the room, boots not quite on your feet right. You hurried to catch up, noticing how he didn’t even slow his stride. What could he possibly be leading you to that required this amount of urgency? Are you going to be punished for talking with that Stormtrooper? 

“Hey, wait up!” He didn’t appear to hear you- meaning that he flat out ignored you. Asshole. 

“You might want to rethink insulting me.” If you hadn’t been afraid to lose him in the labyrinthine halls of Starkiller, you would’ve stopped dead in your tracks. _Hold on-_ “You think very loudly sometimes.” 

“You can hear my thoughts?”

“Sometimes.” 

_Which times?_ Does he know how often you think about him, even if it isn’t in a particularly flattering way? Even worse, when you do think about him in a flattering way?

“Um,” You stammered, unable to think of how to respond to someone who just told you that _sometimes_ they hear your thoughts. Your head, which was your only true sanctuary anymore, was not as safe as you had previously thought. And that, you realized, was perhaps the most horrifying part of your captivity. 

“Stop.” He said, and for a moment you thought you had reached your destination. But no, he was still walking. “I’m the only one who can hear you, and you clearly have no qualms about being defiant to my face. Despite our agreement.” 

_Was he trying to reassure you?_ You watched him as you walked, observing him once more. How, even with your best efforts, he managed to walk slightly ahead of you, his long legs helping to maintain his gait. How the fabric of his robes rustled in the wind created by his stride. How straight the line of his back was, how he held his head high and confident. 

Finally, he stopped in front of a door that was not dissimilar to any of the other doors lining the halls. He punched in a code to the panel on the side of the door and it hissed open, revealing a modest room. 

In the room was a small table, with a platter of food- actual food. Not mush, not gelatinous protein cubes, but actual food that people who lived on planets with free will ate. It didn’t look to be anything particularly exciting- some meat, bread, fruit. But nonetheless, you were shocked to see it. You hadn’t expected _this_ when you’d asked for better food- after all, he could have just told them to give you some fruit and vegetables along with your mush.

“You look unhealthy.” He said, breaking you from your thoughts. 

You’d wanted to snap back, remark if you looked unhealthy, he was at least partially responsible for it, but the sight of actual food made you hold your tongue. Not because you wanted to ensure that this could happen again (which you hoped it would, and per your agreement, it should) but because something about the act of bringing you here to eat food that wasn't just necessary nutrients made you unable to summon the energy to continue snarking. 

As much as you disliked him, this was not a cruel act. However, whether or not it was an act borne of kindness was yet to be seen. 

You could feel his eyes on you as you slowly approached the table, which had two chairs but only one place setting. Confused, you looked back at him. 

“Are you going to join me?” The question came out more confrontational than you’d intended, and you winced as your genuine words twisted into a biting comment. 

“Do you want me to join you?” 

“Do you want to join me?” You countered back. There were few situations where you wanted someone else to make your decision, but Kylo Ren made you nervous, unsure of yourself. You didn’t want him to leave, not really, but you loathed the idea of actually having to admit that. Even if it was just because you didn’t want to be alone again, not because you craved his company. You couldn’t bring yourself to give a flippant ‘I don’t care’, afraid that he would take it as a signal that you wanted him to leave and lock the door behind him. 

He started to turn. 

“Stay.” You cleared your throat, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Um, you can stay.” You resisted adding another _if you want_ , not keen at the prospect of repeating your earlier affair of back-and-forth. 

And with that you were once more seated across from Kylo Ren. It was no less awkward the second time than the first, and perhaps more so because he was once again masked. 

“You can take your helmet off,” You said, not moving to start eating. 

“Thank you for your permission.” He said, and even through the mechanical tones of the vocoder, sarcasm dripped from the words. You ignored it and took a cautious bite of food, not bothering to care what it was that you were putting in your mouth.

After three weeks of mush, the plain food tasted like a delicacy that only the richest in the galaxy could afford to even contemplate eating. After the first timid bite, you were significantly more enthusiastic about eating what was on your plate.

You had been so distracted in your enjoyment of the food that you didn’t notice that Kylo had removed his helmet until you looked back up only to meet his bemused expression. You slowly put your utensils down, self-conscious under his gaze.

“What?”

“You eat as if we have been starving you.”

You shrugged, not wanting to point out that they hadn’t exactly been very accommodating, knowing that his response would only be to remind you that you were, actually, a prisoner. 

Instead, you only said: “It’s good.” But you made sure to calm down your eating, trying to remember your table manners despite the fact that all you wanted to do was shovel the food directly into your mouth. 

He grabbed a pear from the bowl in the middle of the table and a knife, slicing off a small chunk before popping it in his mouth. 

You ate for a few more minutes- and ignored how he watched you- before he once again broke the silence. 

“You said that you weren’t incompetent.” You furrowed your brow, before you remember when- and why- you had said that. 

“Right. I’m not. There may be some duds in the Resistance, but I’m not one of them.” Once again, you resisted the urge to point out that Stormtroopers were notoriously incompetent and compared to them you could be considered an exceptional fighter. 

“Prove it to me.” 

“What?”

“Prove to me that you are capable of fighting.” 

“Now?” You looked around you, the room seemingly not large enough to accommodate more than the table and your two chairs. He can’t possibly expect you to somehow prove yourself _here._

He scoffed. “Obviously not. But you wanted time outside your room, and I am offering that to you.” _And I won’t offer it again._ It was unspoken, but you knew that this was a rare opportunity to get more than the meager amount of physical activity that you managed to maintain by yourself. And the only price was being at the mercy of Kylo Ren’s scrutiny, which was not unfamiliar to you now. 

“...Okay. When?”

“When I am able to. I have other duties aside from wrangling you.” _I wonder what those could be._

“So, you’re going to fetch me at some random time and we’re just going to… have it out?” You couldn’t imagine how _that_ would go down. 

“Spar.” He corrected, popping another pear slice into his mouth. You watched as a stray droplet of juice ran down his gloved index finger. When he finished chewing, he quickly brought his hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the side to catch the drop before it could go any further. It wasn’t sensual in any way- it seemed to be a mindless action. Or at least, that’s what you thought until his eyes flicked upwards and met yours. You could swear he had an upward quirk to his lips when he removed his hand, but it was gone before you could fully process it.

_Ignore that. Focus on the other thing._

Sparring. With Kylo Ren. Who was infamous for his talent- for his _ruthlessness_ \- on the battlefield. You doubted he would go easy on you, and the amount of training you had received when you joined the Resistance was most certainly not enough to do well against him. But more intimidating than the prospect of once again being at his mercy was that in order to spar with someone, you had to touch them. Even if just when delivering blows, the chances of your bodies coming into contact with one another would be significantly higher there. 

And then you thought back to every other time he had touched you. The multiple times when he had held your chin in his firm grip, grabbed your arm to prevent you from moving farther away. Every single time, even when a threat was barely hidden underneath his touch, his touch had sent sparks running down your spine, making hairs stand up on your arms and lighting a fire in your stomach that you didn’t know how- _and didn’t want_ \- to quell. 

“...Do I have a choice?” 

“No.” 

“Okay, then,” You sighed. “We’ll spar.” 

The walk back to your room after dinner was quiet, Kylo Ren’s intimidating and your, much softer, footfalls filling the silence. But, unlike every other silence that fell between you, this one was not awkward or charged. It wasn’t comfortable, either, but you were tired and your stomach was full for the first time in forever, leaving you unable and unwilling to start another conversation ( _argument_ ). 

It was only when you turned down your hall that you recognized where you were. Kylo Ren led you up to your door and angled himself so you couldn’t see the access panel’s keypad. Taking precautions, you supposed, just in case you decided to go against your agreement. It was smart of him; you wouldn’t have trusted him either if your roles were reversed.

When the blast door opened, you stepped through, and Kylo did not follow you through. You turned and met his gaze. You were getting better at meeting his eyes through his visor, and the connection between the two of you was tangible. You opened your mouth to say something- you weren’t even entirely sure what you intended to say- when he moved, pressing the pad on the access panel so the blast door shut, severing your connection. 

And you were left alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I ever write something and you think "huh, that seems like a reference to a thing" it probably is hehe! That being said, the end of this one is not a reference to Fifty Shades but I did recognize the similarities when I wrote it but I liked it. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has interacted or engaged with this in any way, it does mean a lot more to me than it really should. Love you all, stay safe!! Have a nice day/night! 
> 
> ♡♡♡


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! It's an early update because my "schedule" is really just a deadline of each chapter needing to be up by every Wednesday. 
> 
> I did do research on sparring in various martial arts and techniques to use and some of that comes through here (thought I tried not to weigh down the chapter with jargon because who cares) but I want to include a disclaimer that a lot of this- most of it- is just blatantly made up by me. In addition to that, I can’t imagine someone of Kylo’s size actually expecting to go against someone who is not of equal weight/height in a “friendly” atmosphere, but I’m hoping that it comes across as being more for ““educational”” purposes that he is doing this (lol), as well as that in an actual battle you can’t chose to not fight people who are taller/heavier than you. They also do not use proper protection because I didn’t want them to bc that’s not sexie. So anyway, if you do fight IRL, forgive me for these discrepancies. If you don’t, you probably don’t care either way.
> 
> Anyway :-)

“Your form is sloppy.”

“Well, I’m not exactly heading into the heat of battle anytime soon.”

“That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t practice with good form.” He punctuated the last word with a well-aimed jab, hitting your hand away from your body and then striking your stomach, causing you to let out a rough wheeze. At least he avoided your face. Still, it hurt. 

If you could catch your breath, you would try to retort again. But as it was, you focused on breathing deep and low, fully filling your lungs, recovering from the last blow. 

When Kylo Ren had said that you were going to be sparring with him, you had been wary. And you now knew you were completely right to be. You were sore, your upper arms burning from the force with which you had tried- and failed- to land a blow on him. He had managed to block every single one of your attempts, occasionally berating you for failing to hit him. _Jerkass_. 

If you had thought that he was intense while just having an, albeit normally heated, conversation with him, he was a force to be reckoned with when fighting against him. And he wasn’t even _trying_ to hurt you, it was just a consequence of sparring with a man who was as powerful as he was. 

“I’m surprised that this is what passes for competence, even in the Resistance.” You glared at him before taking another swing at him, which he promptly blocked. To be fair, it was a pretty weak throw, fueled primarily by your annoyance and frustration at your lack of success.

“If you’re going to get angry, channel that into good fighting. _Use it._ ” 

“I thought I was proving myself to you, not being taught.” You groaned, rubbing your knuckles despite them not actually hurting. A benefit to not actually managing to hit him, you supposed. “And I doubt that I would ever be in a _fistfight_ on the battlefield,” You add as you barely dodge another swing. Nice. Your brief moment of pride at managing to avoid him was interrupted as Kylo took your distraction as an opportunity to sweep your leg from under you. 

You landed on the ground with a loud thud, your hip taking the brunt of the fall. “Fuck! Can you at least hold back?” 

“I am.” He looked down at you. He’s wearing his undertunic, what he presumably wore all the time under his robes. It fit his frame nicely, you noted absently from the floor. 

“It’s not fair.” You said, shakily standing back up. “My opponent can read my mind.”

“Everything is fair in war.”

 _In love and war,_ you mentally corrected, rubbing your hip as you scowled at him. He never really explained how the whole _‘I can read your mind but only sometimes’_ thing worked, and you didn’t know how to breach the question to him. Was it your fault, or his, that he could hear you?

“Again.” 

You put your arms back up, your posture not as confident as it had been when you’d first started. Despite your caution about sparring him, you had been fairly positive about the quality of your form. But as he walked around you, studying how you were holding yourself, any lingering shreds of that positivity were whisked away, further torn up by his overly critical gaze. 

“Widen your stance.” He said from behind you. You do, but he’s obviously not content with it. He moved closer to you and kicked your feet apart. You stumbled slightly at the rough treatment; your balance had been disrupted. “Spread your legs.”

Did he know, when he said things like that, what you immediately thought of? You breathed deeply, not acknowledging the squirming feeling his words awoke in you. Instead, you focused entirely on the same three words you had been mentally repeating whenever you realized you were thinking about him in a way that you really shouldn’t be. Which, since your negotiations last week, had been increasingly- and worryingly- often. 

_I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you_

Thank whatever-deities-that-may-exist that he couldn’t see your face from behind you.

“You need balance.” He spoke. “It will help with your movement and dodging.” 

He then moved to your front, adjusting your arms so they were held closer to your face. “Protect the face.” 

“Is that why you wear a helmet?” He met your eyes but didn’t answer. You hadn’t expected him to. You were getting better at figuring out which of your statements he would ignore, which he would acknowledge but not answer, and which ones he would actually respond to. Though most of the time when he responded it was to admonish you. He never gave you answers.

“If I get good enough can I use your lightsaber?” You asked, not really meaning it. You had no interest in wielding a lightsaber, viewing them as more dangerous than they were worth. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him that was more than a brief moment of eye contact.

“No.” He said. “You won’t ever be good enough for that.” 

_Ouch_. 

“Drop your stance.” 

“But you-”

With a harsh look from him you shut your mouth, and followed his direction, relaxing into a normal posture. He took a few steps back, watching you. 

“Show me.” You looked at him, realizing what he was doing. You tried to recall exactly how he had adjusted your limbs, positioning yourself to the best of your memory. He immediately stepped forward, jaw set. Your inability to be perfect seemed to bother him, as if being unable to flawlessly replicate the way he had corrected your stance was an incredible fault on your own part. 

He tapped the inside of your calf with the tip of his boot, raising his eyebrow. Huffing, you scooted it outward, glaring at him. 

“It’s uncomfortable like this.” 

“Get used to it.” 

“Why does any of this even matter?” You dropped your hands, placing them on your hips. Your patience- which was typically long lasting- was slowly thinning.

“If you had known how to properly fight, you wouldn’t have been captured.” That’s an odd- and incorrect- point. It was so long ago that you had been tackled to the ground after purposefully giving yourself up to give the others time to escape. And it was because of you that they had managed to succeed. But instead of bringing up this point, that your capture had been somewhat deliberate, though unplanned, you state the most obvious problem with his argument. 

“That’s not true. They had _blasters_.” Even if they couldn’t aim them worth a shit, you wouldn’t have put it past them to accidentally hit and kill you. 

“There’s always a way out.” He gave you a pointed look, as if to chastise you for being captured by his own troops weeks ago. 

“That’s easy for you to say,” You remarked. _But not all of us are able to move things with our minds._ He continued looking at you as a few tense seconds passed, you managing to successfully remain quiet the entire time. 

“Again.” 

You groaned, but complied, moving into a slightly better stance. 

“Still not right.”

“I’m tired.” Before he could possibly give another snarky answer, you continued talking: “And yes, I do understand that in a battle I would be tired but would still have to fight but I’m _not_ in a battle right now, I’m not being held up by pure adrenaline, and _I’m tired._ ”

“You’re the one who wanted physical activity.” _When did I say that?_ “There aren’t many other ways to fulfill that desire here.”

 _I can think of a few._ You inwardly cringe at the inability for the part of your brain responsible for being attracted to Kylo Ren to ever just shut up.

_Shut up._

“Don’t think I ever requested more physical activity.” You corrected, dropping your stance and moving away from him. “And either way, I think I’ve had enough for today.” 

“And you’re the one making decisions here?” 

“I’m not begging.” _But I wouldn’t be averse to it, in a different situation_ -

**_Shut. Up._ **

“What if that’s what _I_ want?” 

Oh.

You didn’t answer- didn’t think you _could_ answer without further embarrassing yourself- instead humming in response as you started to unwrap your hands, doing your best to ignore what he had said. You took your time, and it was only when you’d finally finished freeing your palms that you looked up. Kylo was already looking at you intently, his eyes infinitely dark and impossible to read. 

Where was all of this coming from, you wondered. Not even two weeks ago he was seemingly content to ignore you, only visiting with you when he remembered you existed. It was like everything but still nothing had changed between the two of you. 

“You confuse me,” You hadn’t meant to say it, had meant to keep that thought locked away as if it were a shocking secret. It wasn’t, the only thing it betrayed was that you did, in fact, think about him enough to be confused by him at all. 

You expected him to say nothing, expected him to let the now familiar silence fall over the room. You turned your gaze back to your hands, massaging the lines in your skin where the wrap had been too tight, trying to facilitate blood flow.

“And you confuse me.” 

Surprised, you looked up at him, waiting for him to possibly divulge more. Give you more of an insight into his mind, into how he felt. But he didn’t even look at you now, and it was as if he had truly said nothing at all. 

____

“Training your pet, Ren?” 

Of course, Hux would choose to walk in right as you were, for the umpteenth time, knocked onto your ass. Kylo didn’t bother to offer a hand to help you up. _I thought I was his toy, not his pet,_ you thought bitterly as you stood up, glaring at Hux the whole time. 

“She came pre-trained.” 

“I’m right here.” You said, as if you had to remind them of your presence in the room, turning your glare to Kylo. He gave you a steely look in return. His message was clear: _For once, hold your tongue._

“Breaking her in, then.” Hux said, not even looking at you. Kylo said nothing. You looked between them, noting the differences in their stances. Somehow, even though he wasn’t even wearing his outer robes or helmet, Kylo managed to maintain his dominance over the room. Hux, on the other hand, was not much different from when you saw him last- pale, stiff, and looking as if something unpleasant had wafted under his nose. 

“I hope that she hasn’t managed to make you neglect your duties.” Hux said, briefly turning his gaze to you. “I’m sure the Supreme Leader would be very interested to hear about that.”

“The Supreme Leader will not find out about her existence.” 

“Oh? Is that so?”

Kylo looked over at you, and before he could catch you staring at him, you fixed your gaze firmly to the floor. Pretending you hadn’t heard the conversation from five feet away. The politics of the First Order were not something that you wanted to get involved in. 

_You’ve been involved since you joined the Resistance._

The voice that responded to your thoughts sounded different, new, an almost intrusive force in your brain. You flicked your eyes upward to look at Kylo, who had turned his gaze back to glare at Hux. Was this his doing? Was he able to not just read your thoughts but send his own back in response? 

Or were you finally going crazy enough that your thoughts had morphed to respond like he would, that the cynical part of you that you tried (and often failed) to keep hidden away had decided to take his form in your thoughts? 

There was no answer to confirm or deny your uncertainty.

“He _will not_ find out about her, and if he does-”

“And if he does, it will be your own doing, Ren.” Hux interrupted, and if you didn’t dislike him so much you might have mentally applauded his blatant disrespect towards Kylo. “I’m not in the business of expediting events that will happen anyway. I’m patient, unlike you.” 

With a final glance at you, he left. Does he do that often, entering rooms just to have a snarky conversation, shrouded in secret threats and hidden meanings? But the more pressing questions in your mind were on the contents of the conversation that had just happened. You looked over at Kylo, who was staring at the space Hux had just left, his entire body tense, fists clenched. 

“What does he mean, Kylo-”

“Did I ever give you permission to call me that?” He snapped at you, and you stepped back, jolted away by his sharp tone. “Your constant disregard for our arrangement is tiring. I ask for so little from you and you can’t even give me a crumb of respect.” 

“Do you want me to apologize?” You asked, careful to keep your voice even. _Do you want me to beg for your forgiveness?_

“I think you need to be taught a lesson.” 

“I-” Your mouth was dry. You tried to subtly clear your throat, but it ended up being much louder than you had anticipated. “I think that it’s time to wrap this up.” 

“You're not the one with control here, _pet_ .” The epithet, when given by Kylo Ren, as opposed to the revulsion you felt when Hux applied to you, only further weakened your resolve. “And you know that.” His voice was low, and you ignored the way it ignited what you could only describe as an inferno below your abdomen. _That’s not good. This is not good._

You needed to figure out a way to contain this conversation, this thinly veiled power play, knowing that if it went on any longer you wouldn’t be able to- nor would you _want_ to- stop it. 

Luckily- or perhaps unluckily, your feelings were fickle things and didn’t know how to react appropriately anymore- at the moment you would have bent to his whim, to see where he was leading you, an officer entered the room. You wouldn’t have even realized it had the door’s hissing not been deafening in the charged silence, as Kylo blocked your line of sight to the door. 

“Sir, you’re needed in the command center.” 

Kylo doesn’t break his eyes away from yours and didn’t even seem to have heard the officer. You peeked around Kylo, watching as the small man looked around nervously, before hesitantly repeating himself. Kylo snaps his gaze away from you, breaking your battle of wills, barking out a brief request for details. 

“I-I don’t know, sir.” Poor officer, he looked incredibly out of his element here. You wondered if they drew straws to see who would have to interact with Kylo Ren, or if they just went down a list. 

“Fine. Escort her back to her room.” He stalked to where he had his helmet stored, putting it back on before turning and facing the officer. _How many people had seen him without his mask, and for as long as you had?_

“Sir, I- um, I don’t know where-”

“Do it.” 

The officer looked at you, clearly flustered at the prospect of completing a task that he was clueless to. Once Kylo had left, sweeping out of the room without giving you more than a parting glance, you sighed, the tension you had been holding in your body leaving through the blast door with him. 

“I know the way back; you just make sure I don’t try to escape.” 

“...Is that likely?” He seemed daunted by the task. How, exactly, had this man become an officer? You rubbed a hand over your face, shaken during the aftermath of your conversation, and sighed. 

“No, I suspect it isn’t.” 

____

The next time you see Kylo Ren, he behaved as if nothing had happened the last time you’d spoken, as if it had been one of your usual overly charged conversations. And as long as you don’t think about it, or what you had done that night in the quiet privacy of your dark room, that wouldn’t change. You would survive another day of sparring ( _training_?) with him and would continue to live comfortably in the unknown expanse of your relationship. You didn’t need to know what you were. Definitions were constricting, their binding nature only serving to confine you. You would ignore it, ignore everything. You’re good at that.

 _No, you’re not_.

In the week since you’d begun sparring with Kylo Ren, you had been berated and critiqued from every angle, with nothing to show for it but sore limbs and a slightly improved technique. Not enough to gain the upper hand over him, but you doubted you’d ever achieve that. After all, he was the one who was teaching you how to advance- even if he couldn’t see into your mind at inopportune moments (for you, at least), he’d probably be able to quickly predict your next move before you’d even formulated the thought. 

If you tried to fake him out, he knew it and instead faked you out, making you think that he was going to fall for it but striking you instead. If you tried to land a blow, he would block it immediately, occasionally grabbing your wrist and twisting it until you gave up, giving him the win. Not that you kept track of scores. It would be pointless as he _always_ won.

You stood in the corner of the wide, open room you trained in. It was as impersonal as all the other rooms you had visited on Starkiller, but it was clearly outfitted for training. You were carefully winding the hand-wrap around your palms, ensuring it was tight but not enough that it would cut off the blood flow to your fingers. 

“Hair.” Kylo said, his unmodified voice echoing slightly in the room. You look up at him briefly, nodding, before returning to your wrapping. You don’t see why you had to keep your hair out of your face when he didn’t bother. You aren’t necessarily complaining that he doesn’t, though- you quite enjoyed the sight of his disheveled hair at the end of the session. Maybe he recognized that and kept it the way it was as a distraction. Or maybe he didn’t know any of the things you thought about him, whether it be when in his presence or late at night when you couldn’t sleep. 

Either way, you suppressed it, shoving the thoughts deep into the recesses of your mind, into a box that you didn’t like acknowledging. You could not- and would not- let this become anything more than the mild interest that had been living in you since your escape attempt, since you had stood in the freezing cold with snow whipping around the two of you. 

Kneeling down, you made sure that your boots were securely on your feet. After tightening the one that was slightly loose, you were about to push yourself off your knee back to your standing position to begin allowing Kylo to triumph over you for however long he deemed was a productive meeting that day, when a shadow fell across you. Even though you knew who it was, you looked up. 

“Hello.” You said lightly, before standing up, understandably uncomfortable being on your knees directly in front of him. _Put the thoughts into the box, put the thoughts into the box._ “Do you need something?” Without answering back, he put his hands against the wall on either side of your head, effectively trapping you in the corner. 

“What are you- Get away from me,” You said, anxiety curling in your stomach. He was too close, much too close to you. You were practically begging yourself to not think too loudly, for fear that this would be one of those times that he would hear it. You had no idea if distance was a factor and weren’t keen on finding out. 

“Fight me off, then.” He said, his voice that same low tone that had sent alarms blaring in your head and heat between your legs the other day. And it sadly had the same effect at that moment. _Ignore it, ignore it. Put it in the box._ You struggled against him, pushing your hands against his broad chest. There was enough space to the side of you that you could duck under his arm and weasel your way out, but you figured that if you did, he would just grab you and pin you down more forcefully, ensuring that you would have to _really_ fight him off. 

“You know I can’t.” You spoke through gritted teeth. _I would humor you, but I think I’m going to implode in two seconds if you don’t move away from me, Kylo Ren_. 

“You haven’t tried.” How could he expect you to push him away when he was an immovable object, and your strength nothing more than a slight breeze? What was the purpose of this exercise aside from to emphasize the stark contrast between the two of your experiences and ability? You couldn’t even plan an escape without fear of him hearing it and preventing you from carrying it out. 

But perhaps, you slowly realize as you continue to try to push him off (which he responds to with nothing more than staring down at you), perhaps you shouldn’t try to match _his_ strengths. Perhaps you’d been doing this whole sparring thing wrong by even attempting to make yourself conform to fit what he was good at. You need to work on and use what you were really good at, improve it and make it an ability that makes you invaluable to the higher levels of the Resistance, ensuring you would rise through the ranks. If you ever make it back to them, that is. 

Stealth. Deception. Distraction. 

Maybe you could distract him- somehow- and then use that to duck under his arm and run, hoping his reflexes weren’t fast enough to catch you immediately. Give you time to recollect yourself and prepare to start actually fighting and finally put an end to this awful exercise. 

You looked up, meeting his amber eyes. Where your hands were resting, you could feel his heartbeat, only noticing then how surprisingly fast it was underneath your touch. You searched his face, trying to think of a way to distract him and put some space between you, when your eyes flickered down to his lips, and then quickly, anxiously, darted back to his eyes. Did he catch that, that brief moment of weakness from you? He narrowed his eyes, just slightly enough that you could tell he was analyzing you in return. 

But maybe… maybe you don’t want to put space between you. 

Braver than you’d felt in a long time, you started to lean in, just barely, testing the waters. For a second, it seemed as if he would allow you to continue, watching you intently. The hand that’s not resting over his heart gently stroked his collarbone through his shirt, the skin still hidden from your view. You’d never seen more than his face and hands, you realized. 

And then, as if burned by your touch, he jerked back. Without his body there to hold you up, you stumbled forward and in your brief moment of freedom he had managed to put half the room between you. As you were processing the past few seconds- _though they felt like years in your memory_ \- you stared at him as he ran a hand through his dark hair, not looking at you. Purposefully avoiding looking at you.

Your mind raced, mortified at what had just happened. At what you had just done. Had you crossed a line, an invisible boundary, or read emotions that weren’t even there? Had you gotten too close to defining the odd relationship the two of you had, as if actually acting on the unspoken promises he had made was somehow too much for him?

Or… Or was he reacting this way because you had dared to remind him, once again, that you were more than just a _pet_ , to be leashed by his whim. You reminded him that you had your own desires and could act upon them if you so wished. Reminded him that you both could hold their power over the other, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Even if he didn’t want to admit what you were capable of, even if you didn’t want to admit it to _yourself_. Despite your seemingly constant analysis of Kylo Ren, you were no closer to understanding his thoughts or feelings than you had been when you first met on the Finalizer. 

Did he do what he did to you because he cared? You sincerely doubted it. You can’t imagine him caring about anyone, let alone you, notwithstanding your status as his soulmate. He seemed to only want to secure your remaining near him, your obedience, because he wanted to maintain his control over you. Because he wanted to own you. 

But if he was going to own you, you were going to own him. 

_“And yet, you’re fated to me.”_

_“As you are fated to me.”_

Somehow.

“Get out.” Startled, you looked back to him. He was facing away from you, his hands once again clenching into- and back out of- a fist. He had clearly been thinking everything over, as you had, in these past few minutes. And whatever conclusion he had drawn in his mind was firmly against you. You’re hesitant about leaving him like this, but you also don’t want to be witness to his wrath if it decides to rear its head while you are still lingering. 

“Don’t I… Don’t I need a guard?” 

He glared at you then, the intensity in his eyes startling you. And all of it, the entirety of his focus, of his furious attention, was entirely fixated on _you_. 

“Out.” And perhaps you imagined it, but you could almost hear him continue, though he spoke nothing more aloud: _And if you try to escape, I will not hesitate to hunt you down and drag you back_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gently easing this fic into the NSFW realm as is implied by the rating, so we can all adjust gradually to it and not have it just thrust onto us. We’ll do this together. Hold my hand. 
> 
> sometimes i think im going too fast with their relationship but also i don't care!! arguments aren't fun to write if you don't wanna fuck the other person, and also also i *know* what happens for the rest of the fic so it doesn't even matter! it's my fic i do what i WANT.
> 
> love you all! stay safe, wear ur masks and wash ur hands. ♡


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just casually posting three chapters in the span of a week lmao

Regret. Mortification. Guilt. Shame. 

Similar emotions, but different enough that you could pinpoint each one as it flitted through you. 

You were anxiously waiting for the next time you would see Kylo Ren and dreading it all the same. It’s been days since you’d seen him last, each day since spent agonizing over your previous misstep. If it even was a singular misstep, and not a collection of many small missteps stacked upon one another. But they would all have ended up culminating in the mortifying almost-kiss.

You still couldn’t figure out what had scared him away, if it was the reality of it all, if it was that you decided to take what you wanted from him instead of the other way around, if it was that he had set a boundary that you had unknowingly crossed. Perhaps it was all of them combined. 

Even worse than the aspect of somehow crossing his boundaries was in that brief moment of weakness, you had revealed yourself to him, every single conflicted thought and emotion you’d had about him laid bare before you. Because you were not the type to kiss someone who you had promised yourself to hate, unless there was something else going on. Unless there was some sort of disconnect between what your mind told you was right and what your heart wanted, as cliché as it was. 

The only time they seemed to sync up and agree with one another was late at night when you were either just thinking about him- his stupid eyes, his stupid hair, his stupidly nice body- or you were thinking about him while you had a hand between your legs, trying to muffle any whimpers or sighs you may be making with a hand pressed over your mouth, even though you’re pretty sure that no one could hear you. But you hadn’t done that since the _incident,_ every time you even contemplated slipping your fingers lower and temporarily alleviating your stress only resulting in the disastrous moment replaying in your mind. 

The feeling of his heartbeat- real, frantic- under your palm, the way that his eyes had analyzed you seconds before you tried to close the distance, the moment that he had wrenched himself away from you as if you were venomous. 

And well, that memory wasn’t exactly what you wanted to think of when trying to get off. 

So now you were anxious _and_ sexually frustrated.

You rolled your shoulders, trying to chase away the tension that lingered all along your spine. 

It’s funny how now that you had something to fill your time, you didn’t want to. Your datapad was the only source of light in the dark room, and you blankly flipped through a random book, your eyes scanning but not absorbing the words. It was some boring thing about plant life in the Outer Rim. Whoever had outfitted your datapad with books had thrown in a little bit of everything, but nothing particularly good. Trashy romance novels, histories, First Order propaganda, informative-yet-boring books on mundane topics amongst other genres. You’d skimmed a few of them, aside from the propaganda, which you promptly tried to delete. When it seemed that you could not actually get rid of it, you just moved it away from the main “bookshelf” on your datapad, which was as good as deleting it in your mind. 

As it turned out, the romance novels were the most interesting out of all of the choices, but they weren’t very high quality, full of quivering maidens and domineering men. At first you may have scoffed at the predictability and clichéd nature of it all, but with more thought, it seemed that that was an odd mirror to your own life. And after realizing that you didn’t want to read them anymore. 

You turned another page (or, swiped so the datapad knew to show you the next page), glumly looking at the drawing of a bit of scraggly grass found on Tatooine. 

_Boring. Boring. I am bored. Bored. B o r e d._

“And I thought the datapad would alleviate your boredom.” 

You jumped at the voice, looking up, examining the dark room. Your eyes couldn’t see anything besides what was illuminated by the dim light of the datapad, which didn’t even reach the floor by your bed. 

“...Kylo?” You whispered into the darkness, not moving to even turn the light on. You were afraid if you moved off the bed the moment would be lost, and you would have to face the fact that you had most definitely just hallucinated that. But right now, alert and sitting stock-still on your bed, you could believe that he had somehow been able to enter your room without your notice. You could believe that he was standing by the door, ready to ignore everything that had happened and just go back to berating you like normal, like _before._

But as minutes of silence dragged on and the only noise was the faint humming that was always present on the base, it was clear that he was not there. It was clear that you were alone. 

“Why are you doing this, asshole?” You said out loud, though you now knew that the room was empty. _Can you at least explain why I seem to hear you all the time, even when I don’t want to?_

_Are you actually doing this, are you actually speaking to me, or is it just my brain trying to create shapes to fill the darkness?_

If he was listening, if he could answer you in your mind, he didn’t show. 

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to calm your heart rate. If you ever had the chance, would you ask Kylo about this? Or would your fear of the answer keep you from posing the question, comfortable in your ignorance? Because there were only two possible answers, and neither were appealing. Either you were going crazy and some of your thoughts had taken Kylo’s form to help further coax you off the edge of sanity, or he was able to speak to you, further removing the last boundaries of your privacy and maintaining his control over your entire self, every little last bit of you. 

But then, you realized that the answer was actually the same either way. Either way, Kylo Ren was a larger presence in your mind than you ever wanted to admit. It was larger than thinking about him at all times, than fantasizing about his touch, his mouth, his… everything. 

Perhaps he was much closer to owning you than you had previously thought.

____

“Commander Ren requests your presence.” 

You blinked at the officer standing in your doorway. You noted that it was the same officer who had escorted you back to your room after Hux had interrupted your last sparring session. Guess he drew the short stick again. 

“Why?” You asked, but immediately shook your head, realizing your mistake. “Never mind, I know you don’t know.” 

He seemed relieved that you let him off the hook, but you were frankly too busy thinking to acknowledge it. Since when had Kylo Ren asked for you to be brought to him instead of just coming to your room and taking you wherever he wanted? 

Oh gods, was he finally going to execute you? Was this your punishment? Though part of you knew that it would be extremely disproportionate to kill you for simply trying to kiss him, you also wouldn’t necessarily put it past him. 

The walk to wherever Kylo was waiting seemed to go on for hours, and the more doors that passed without you stopping at them only caused your dread to build. If he wasn’t going to execute you, then what was he going to do? You couldn’t think of anything else, your mind stuck on the horrifying concept of finally meeting your end. It’s been days since you’d seen him last, and any number of things could have happened in that time to make him change his mind about keeping you alive.

Every step closer to your destination was another spike in your anxiety, another moment of doubt in what you had previously thought was certain. Kylo Ren, for whatever reason, was keeping you alive. And you, whether you liked it or not, whether you had intended to, had given him a reason that might just be good enough to call for your death. 

Shit. You _were_ fucked, weren’t you? 

Eventually the winding hallways of Starkiller opened up, leading to a slightly wider hallway. Looking around, it occurred to you that you had never been to this part of the base before. It was obviously meant for show- while not extremely dressed up, it held an air of importance. Perhaps this is where visitors were led.

Your suspicions were confirmed when the officer leading you punched in a code to the access panel, the blast door opening and revealing what could only be described as a meeting room. Though it wasn’t without its evidence of a farther utilitarian purpose, the walls lined with machinery and the occasional (blank) tactical screen. This was a room for planning, for conferring. 

Kylo Ren was standing with his back turned to the door when you entered, but by the time you had fully absorbed the room in front of you he was facing you. His helmet was on, per usual when dealing with subordinates. You avoided looking directly at him, though there was no hiding from him when he was the one who called you here in the first place.

“Sir, your…um… your…” He didn’t seem to know what to call you. You wondered what your status was known as, something you hadn’t thought about before. The others must realize you weren’t a normal prisoner, kept in a cushy room rather than a cell. But whether they realized the extent of the differences between you and the other captives they might have was unlikely. “...Her.” The officer said. _He’s really bad at his job,_ you thought bluntly, _if he’s what qualifies for officer-material, I would rise through the ranks impossibly fast here._

It was easier to focus on the officer’s fidgeting and nervous gesturing at you than the other, significantly more commanding presence in the room. The man that was completely concentrated on you, ignoring the officer. The officer who, evidently, couldn’t read the room and lingered for a few more moments too long before finally getting that he had been dismissed for quite some time. 

The blast door had barely hissed shut before Kylo Ren removed his helmet, setting it aside on the console by him. His bare face was as unreadable as when it was hidden from view, his carefully composed blank face only serving to heighten your trepidation. 

“Show me.”

“Show-” Your voice cracked, a remnant of your anxious fretting. You cleared your throat, hoping it was discreet but not caring either way. “Show you what, exactly?”

“The words.”

You blinked, surprised. That was decidedly not what you thought was going to happen during this meeting. But nonetheless, you rolled up the sleeve over your left wrist, revealing your skin and the looping letters that marred the flesh there. 

_That won’t be necessary._

You held your wrist out, not moving to him. You weren’t even sure if you could move, your boots feeling as if they had been stuck to the floor in your reluctance to close the gap between the two of you. But he was quick, crossing the room in a few steps.

When he was directly in front of you, he grabbed your arm, his gloved hand holding you tight, as if he was trying to make sure you didn’t try to escape him. He looked at the mark for a second, his other hand ghosting over it, before he was thrusting your arm away from him, crossing the room again. He was focused, his eyes hard and his jaw set. 

You examined your mark, though nothing had changed since the other thousands of times you’d looked at it, tracing the invisible path his fingers had just created on your skin. 

“I don’t know what to do with you.” He says, finally. You met his gaze across the room, amidst the blinking lights and faint buzz of the machinery. 

“I… I don’t understand.” 

“You are a _distraction.”_

“Distraction? You haven’t seemed distracted.” Distraction from what? His duties, as Hux had said last week? Granted, you aren’t with Kylo Ren for every second of the day, but whenever you’d seen him, he’d never seemed to particularly care about your presence. 

“And you’ve proved you excel at reading others.” 

You looked away from him, the reminder of your last meeting unwanted. Blood rushed to your cheeks like you’d been slapped with the embarrassment that filled you. 

Should you apologize?

Yes. Probably.

Will you apologize?

That was harder to figure out, the answer not as clear-cut as you would have liked.

Before, when you’d be agonizing over your dilemma, you would have said yes, apologize. But standing in front of him reminded you that no matter what his reason for getting upset at you, it was nothing that he hadn’t done to you twofold. Around him, you held no control, you had no boundaries. Any emotions you felt were promptly disregarded by him. There should be no need to atone for sins that he himself had committed. 

And yet…

And yet, you felt you had to. 

“I’m-”

“Don’t.” 

You snapped your mouth shut. _Never mind, then._

“You are a thorn in my side.” Normally, you would have responded to this, throwing the insult right back at him. It wasn’t like he wasn’t _also_ a pain to deal with. But you could sense the danger in the air, warning you against pushing him too far. For once, you would listen to him. “You are constantly defiant, you are of no use to me, certainly not to the First Order.” he said, and you tried not to wince at the abuse. “So, tell me. Why do I bother keeping you alive?” He asked, moving closer to you again, taking away any shred of safety you may have felt with almost the entire room between you. 

Despite that, you held your ground, refusing to cower backwards, knowing it would end with you being cornered against the wall. And the last time that had happened, it hadn’t ended particularly well. 

You don’t respond, unsure if the question was rhetorical, or even what your answer would be if it wasn’t. 

“Tell me,” He started again, moving ever closer to you. “What purpose do you serve?”

He stood a breath away from you, and you kept your eyes focused on the floor, afraid of what you might see in his face if you looked up. The only downside to not looking at him was that you didn’t see when he minutely leaned in. 

“What purpose _do you serve?”_ He repeated again. You moved your head to the side, still not wanting to risk the possibility of looking him in the eye. But then he took ahold of your chin, and you were forced to look forward. 

“People don’t need to serve a purpose.” You said, unable to hold your tongue any longer. The fingers he had on your chin tightened, their grip no longer serving to just keep you in place, but to try and inhibit you from talking. But you would not be silenced that easily. 

“For me, they do.” 

“What purpose would you _want_ me to serve?” You ask, meeting his gaze. Though it didn’t come out quite as eloquently as you would have liked because of his hold, he clearly understood. His eyes darkened, and he exhaled, amused. 

“You think that you are the one who decides how this progresses?” He asked, his voice barely above a mumble. But you understood every word, hyper focused on what he was saying. And it was clear that he was now referring to your previous indiscretion, your crossing of the line that he had drawn between you. The line you crossed because you apparently didn’t realize it existed. 

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, not that you would have tried. “No. And if you want something,” He leaned so his voice brushed right up against your ear, and you were held by his grip, unable to escape, “You have to _ask_ for it.” 

A shaky exhale left you. Any doubt you had about whether he knew what effect he had on you had been dashed. His behavior was no longer just an accident, it was calculated. You supposed this was both a benefit and drawback of having revealed your desires so plainly. 

“And if I don’t?” You breathed. He moved into your direct field of vision, his face now only inches from your own. He hummed softly, and unlike your first meeting when he’d made the same noncommittal noise, it was without the modulator to distort the sound.

“I’ve been far too lenient in dealing with your… disregard for our agreement.” He murmured.

“What did you expect?” You say back, ignoring the way your heart hammered within your chest. Every single conversation you had with Kylo seemed to end with you flustered and frustrated.

“Quiet.”

His thumb brushed your lips. Without even thinking about it, you parted your lips. Pressing an almost delicate, open-mouthed kiss to the pad of his thumb, you looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes. 

“You are playing a _very_ dangerous game.” His eyes were dark, lingering on your mouth. “And you _will_ lose.” 

_What if I want to lose?_ You can’t say that out loud. It was as if speaking what you both knew to be true would be too much. You could mentally acknowledge the power he had over you, but you couldn’t admit it, knowing the truth became a tangible object once it was spoken, that it could then be used against you. 

Instead of speaking, afraid of what you would say, you gently bring the tip of his thumb into your mouth. Applying the smallest amount of pressure, you lightly ran your tongue over the digit, swirling around it. You didn’t know if he could actually feel what you were doing through his glove, but by the look of his face it had the same effect either way. 

If you had felt like prey before, that was _nothing_ compared to how you felt now, trapped by his grasp but held in place by his stare. But, unlike before, when you’d been running away or literally bound and unable to move, you wanted it now. 

With the tiniest ‘pop’, you released him from your mouth. He pressed down on your lip, pulling it down slightly, before resting his thumb once more on your chin. 

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to smirk. _Your move, Kylo Ren._

For a moment, he let you enjoy your brief moment of power, before he unceremoniously wrenched it back away from you. “I _know_ what you want. If you’re trying to entice me into giving it to you, try harder.” 

He finally moved away from you, granting your wish for distance but only when it wasn’t what you really wanted anymore. “Or, of course,” He continued, his back turned from you. “You can always _ask.”_

It took every ounce of willpower you had not to just give in, do what he wanted you to do so you could finally stop this strange dance that you’d been wrapped up in since… since your escape attempt. Since you’d broken through whatever barrier was keeping him from showing his face to you, and in doing so revealed what would be the cause of your ruin.

His stupid attractive face. 

“I want-” You start, watching as he tensed, and judging the slight tilt of his head, he was listening, waiting for whatever you were going to say. But no, you weren’t giving in that easily, “-to go back to my room.” 

A beat. He doesn’t move, but you make no attempt to repeat yourself. You know he heard you. 

“...Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bingo chart for my own writing and there is indeed a space for finger/hand kisses, so guess I can go ahead and mark that one off.
> 
> anyway, thank you all for your support, it's quite nice!! teehee!!
> 
> I'm over on tumblr: @summercourtship
> 
> thank you! I love you all! Stay safe! You are beautiful! ♡♡♡


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, not even two chapters ago: I’m easing this fic into the nsfw territory, gently. softly.
> 
> me, posting this: ew here ya go 
> 
> I.E.: there is sexual content in this chapter and it is fair to say that it will be commonplace after this chapter. Not in every single coming chapter, like I have the vague-est semblance of a plot that I have to follow but it is not going to just... go away. Just a warning, but I expect that’s what you all wanted/anticipated when you clicked on an explicit fic teehee. 
> 
> But if you want to skip it in this chapter, it's the italicized section at the beginning and it literally adds nothing to the plot. But I probably won't section it off in the future :-)

_A glittering, opulent, nameless club somewhere in the vast expanses of the galaxy. The details are hazy, as most details in dreams are. The people in the club have only the vague impressions of faces, no actual features present, your sleeping mind not bothering to create faces for those who were, ultimately, unimportant._

_Well, all but one._

_Kylo Ren is staring at you._

_As he should be, when you sit perched on his lap, one of his hands resting on the small of your back to support you, but also as a show of possession, of ownership. Here, you belong to him. His other hand rests on your inner thigh, stroking the skin with a feather-light touch. With barely enough pressure that if you weren’t hyper aware of it you wouldn’t register that he is even touching you at all. He’s inching closer to where you want- no, need- him. But not quite fast enough for your taste._

_You whine, squirming, trying to both add friction and somehow entice him to hasten his pace. One of your arms is slung around his shoulders, ensuring a lack of distance between your two bodies, and your hand is almost claw-like, holding onto his shoulder with a vice-like grip. Trying to further coax him to speed up, your clasp hopefully being uncomfortable enough that he will give you what you want without any fuss._

_But you should know better._

_His only reaction to your pathetic effort at tempting him into giving you what you covet is to, paradoxical to your desire, stop stroking._

_Before you can protest this absence, he delivers a cautionary smack to the skin he had previously been caressing. It doesn’t hurt, but it is a warning that he is not unwilling to punish you, that he can switch on a dime and become merciless if you do not bend to his whim. Not that you didn’t already know that. As if that wasn’t what drew you to him._

_You stop your squirming, instead turning your head to press a delicate kiss to his jaw. Asking for forgiveness through your attention to his skin, peppering small kisses along his jawline up to his ear. You nibble gently on the lobe, not biting or marking. Proving that you can be good, be docile._

_“Please, Kylo-” Your voice is breathy, barely more than a whisper into his ear._

_“No.” He says, his voice firm. But he does start stroking your skin again, his touch closer to where your thighs meet your hips, to the center of your being, albeit moving towards it at an achingly slow pace. “And is that what you want to be calling me right now?”_

_Shit. Right._

_“...No, sir.” You pull your face away from his, looking him in the eyes once more._

_“Good girl,” Your cheeks heat, and you know without even needing to check that you were wet enough to feel it through your underthings._

_Which he then confirms by lightly dancing his fingers over it, humming at the damp fabric. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re practically soaked… are you such a needy slut that you’d let me fuck you here, in front of all these strangers?”_

_“Ah…no- yes, I want...” You gasp, his touch finally reaching your clothed sex. He pauses, waiting for you to finish speaking, telling him what you want. You can feel his warmth through the fabric, and you need him to actually start touching you, begin helping you release the tension that had been building up since before you could even remember. “...it.” Your dignity, again, causes you to shy away from expressing what you really desired from him._

_He hums in mock-disappointment at your inability to properly plead for what you want._

_“Well, you’ll have to wait.”_

_He removes his hand once more, but before you can begin to complain about the lack of sensation he’s easing you off his lap, quickly turning you around so you face him and then guiding you back onto his thigh. But you are now straddling it, instead of sitting on it with your legs resting between his. The firm pressure underneath your pussy creates a shiver that runs from your head to your toes, and you have to bite your lip to keep from groaning._

_“Show me how much you want_ it.” _Oh. So that’s what he’s playing at._

_You blink at him, brought back to the current moment. Is this something you could do, so brazenly in public? But, you suppose, the darkened booth you sit in was hidden away from the bustle of the club well enough to keep your behavior obscured from the others. You are, your lust clouded mind reasons, basically alone._

_You barely think through it farther than that before you gently roll your hips, testing the waters. Dragging your sex along the taut muscle of Kylo Ren’s thigh. He watches while you slowly adjust, waiting for you to find your rhythm._

_You’ve barely begun eagerly grinding down on him before he decides that you’ve had enough fun, choosing your own pace. You were forgetting that_ he _is the one in control here. His hands immediately grab your hips, using his strength and general dominance over you to grind you down against him._

_To anyone else, he might have seemed uninterested, almost bored despite your enthusiastic form on top of him. But you could see the heat in his expression, the way his eyes flicked from your own eyes, lips, to your hips, the points between you where your body met his._

_Unable to continue looking at how dark and heated his stare was, how he devoured you with it, you drop your forehead to rest on his shoulder, small exhales escaping you as he further controls your movements, rolling your hips down against him. He was in charge here and you were just along for the ride._

_Figuratively and literally._

_As you press your face into the crook between his neck and shoulder, you briefly mourn the fact that he’s fully clothed, his skin hidden from your gaze and protected from your mouth._

_Tiny, breathy moans have started to escape you. You bite your lip, your pride keeping you from letting them be heard by anyone, let alone yourself. Why you decided that you could be openly getting off on him in public but making any noise was much too bold for you was beyond you at this moment, too busy focusing on chasing your pleasure._

_“Just like that,” He murmurs, and without even looking at him you know he’s still watching you intently. As he always is. “Good girl.”_

_You whine, and despite your efforts to muffle it the noise comes out much louder than you anticipated. He lightly bounces his leg, causing you to gasp and pull your face out from where it rests._

_“Let me- let_ them- _hear you.” He says, the added stimulation of the movement of his leg against your clit almost too much to bear, the action creating small bursts of pleasure to travel through you. But you still stifle any of the noises you make. “Let them see what a desperate little thing you are.”_

_“N-no, I can’t,” You glance over your shoulder, making sure no one was watching you. No one was, everyone seemingly oblivious to the shameless display going on in the corner. But how would you have felt if there were eyes on you, if people were watching you in Kylo Ren’s lap? Would you have demanded to stop or would you have been further driven by their gaze, whether it be in judgement, aversion, or lust?_

_“There’s that stubbornness.” He says, and you look back at him, mind sufficiently drawn away from the crowd, any lingering thoughts you were having about it dashed as you catch the intensity of his gaze. “I thought we got rid of that.”_

_Did you? You couldn’t remember. **(Of course you couldn’t remember, this dream isn’t real)**_

_“I-” Whatever you were going to say is cut off by another moan from you as he continues to move his leg under you. It was louder than you wanted, unable to muffle it in time. He continues to guide you along, his grip bruising, and you wonder if there will be a wet spot on his pants from where you’ve been grinding down on it. Part of you hopes that there will be, as his hiding his skin from you has left you unable to mark him as yours. A very obvious impression on his pants would be a fine substitute to bruises and bitemarks, you suppose._

_“Good girl,” He repeats, but every time he does it’s like the first time he’d ever done it, sending more warmth through your body. “Such a good girl for me.”_

_And you’re getting so close, all you need is that extra push, that extra pressure to help you reach your peak. You snake your hand down your body, hoping to slip it between your legs without him noticing, to give yourself the added stimulation to aid in gaining your climax._

_“Don’t.” He can be so cruel. You pout, starting to complain, not moving your hand away yet. If you could convince him- somehow- that you should be allowed to touch yourself, perhaps he would allow it._

_“Please, I need to-”_

_“No.” He says sternly, and you automatically yank your hand away, afraid that if you disobey he’ll leave you in this disheveled state. He could tell you to do anything right now and you would, without hesitation, if it meant that he wouldn’t stop. “You don’t need that, I know you can cum from just this, riding my thigh like a good whore.”_

_“I can’t-” You start to protest again, desperate to finally let yourself go._

_“You_ can. _And you will.”_

_All you can do right then, no longer having the energy to fight this point, is nod and continue to let him let you use him._

_“Look at you, wanting so badly to cum.” He mutters, and his low voice in your ear only heightens the tension building, and you’re so so so close. Impossibly close, impossibly fast. “Are you going to cum on my thigh, rutting on it like a bitch in heat?”_

_“I- yes, fuck, sir- please-” You’re practically incoherent, hoping he’d get the gist of it, unable to even form full thoughts, let alone speak comprehensibly._

_He hums, thinking about the unspoken question you’d asked. He leans forward, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out to taste the skin under his lips. You shudder, your movements turning erratic. He moves, and breathes a single word right into your ear._

_And, finally, with his permission, the tension snaps. Your head presses down on his shoulder again, and you barely resist the urge to bite your lip, to raise your palm to your mouth and stifle the groan that escapes you, panting as you reach your peak. You’re cursing softly, eyes squeezed shut and your hips jerk against him, the movements no longer fluid._

_Almost as soon as your body had stopped moving and you were focusing on catching your breath, coming down from your high, he picks you up and pins you to the table. It’s not exactly a comfortable position, but the feeling of his hard length as he rolls it against you makes up for the discomfort._

_“You’ve had your fun, now it’s my tur-”_

You woke up with a start, staring at your ceiling, processing the images that your mind had just conjured for you, before placing your face in your hands. Having a vivid sex dream about Kylo Ren was certainly not what you wanted when trying to not want to fuck him. 

“Shit.”  
____

After your rather eventful meeting in the conference room, your schedule had returned to normal. Which meant that you and Kylo Ren were sparring together again. 

When he finally decided it was time to gather you from your room for the first time since your last session, you were unable to look him in the eyes, afraid that even meeting them would lead to him seeing- no, don’t even think about it. 

Seeing someone after having a very realistic sex dream starring them the night before was never going to not be awkward. But seeing someone who could very possibly become aware of it at any second if you even _think_ about it too loudly, however, was significantly more awkward. 

So, you tried your best to not think about it. Try your best to remember how the cold shower you took that morning had erased any feelings of lust, willing yourself to not be so turned on when around him. Remember that you are not the one doing your own laundry, and some poor Stormtrooper was going to have to deal with your undergarments. 

Good. That’s a good thought.

The walk to the training room _(is that what you’re calling it?)_ was silent, with you putting all your focus on not thinking about certain dreams and not looking at Kylo Ren, who walks slightly ahead of you. As always, he led the way, as if you don’t remember where the site of your eternal source of embarrassment was located. 

Though you try to not look at him, it is difficult to not notice him out of the corner of your eye, always at least in your periphery. 

But luckily, you reached the room before your will can even start to cave. Before you think about something you shouldn’t, or look at him too intensely. 

You’re quick to prepare yourself, ready to get this over with as soon as possible. The quicker you finished today, the quicker you can be away from him. And try to collect and hide your thoughts, shoving them into that mental box that seemed to spill over frighteningly frequently.

You stood in front of him once ready, waiting for whatever he was planning on, waiting to start losing. But he just gestured for you to show him your stance. 

He’s quiet today.

Wordlessly, he adjusted your form again, thankfully not chiding you for forgetting exactly how he had fixed it before. You weren’t sure how much longer he would tolerate you blatantly not trying to remember his corrections. But for now, at least, he did. While he was circling around you and fixing minute details of your posture, you had your jaw clenched, ignoring how his touch seemed to linger when positioning you. 

If you ignored it for long enough, it would go away. Because you did not want to be the first to cave in your battle of wills, though your dream last night had certainly weakened your determination. Knowing how it would feel to just _let him_ take over, even if it was entirely fabricated by your unconscious brain, was not exactly motivation to not give in.

So, you were understandably distracted. Add everything going on in your mind to your general unwillingness to try surpassing Kylo’s ability to beat you today and you were losing almost immediately into your session (your “mock” fights, though they didn’t lack the intensity- or the pain- of a real fight). 

At first, he didn’t seem to notice. 

But you should know better. 

The third time that he managed to land a hit with little effort on your part to block it, he stopped and took a step away. Eyebrows furrowing as he examined you, your face, your position. You were getting ready to be criticized for your less-than-perfect technique when he spoke.

“Are you trying to lose?” He asked. 

“No.” But you weren’t exactly trying to win, either.

“So you’ve become a worse fighter.” 

“It’s been a week.” You said flatly, disliking his scrutiny, dropping your arms. So what if you wanted to stop trying? If you weren’t in the mood to fight, you weren’t in the mood to fight. The only good thing this exercise in being defeated did was give you freedom from your room, even if only for a half-hour at most. 

“Your skills survived two months of captivity, but deteriorated in the span of a week.” He responded, his tone matching your own. It wasn’t a question. 

But instead of coming up with a sufficient response, you were stuck. You knew that your imprisonment hadn’t exactly been short, but hadn’t actually taken the time to calculate just how long you’d been gone. 

Two months.

Had it really been two months? Two months since you’d last felt the sun on your skin, since you’d last laughed with your friends, been free? Two months since you’d worn your own clothes, two months since you last listened to music, two months since you’d been the master of your own heart, your own desires and whims? Did they think you were dead back at the Resistance base? Did they care, or were you another number added to the nameless dead, another casualty in a war that seemingly had no end? 

You had to force yourself out of the downward spiral you were starting to fall into, not wanting to have yet another self-pity session, especially not in front of Kylo Ren.

Wallowing had gotten boring, anyway. 

“Fine.” You said, wanting to get off this topic. “I’m not trying. You’re going to win anyway, might as well accept my defeat.” 

He doesn’t accept your admission that perhaps you weren’t as competent as you had thought you were, at least not against the likes of him (but who would be?).

“I didn’t expect you to give up so easily.” 

_Implying you actually think about me when I’m not just in front of you._

“Well, I am. This doesn’t matter.” You hadn’t meant to sound so cynical, so bitter. Though you tried to bury it deep within you, the reminder of how long you’d been held a prisoner of the First Order left you despondent, your heart an empty hollow of emotion. 

You had no chance of escape. You had tried, and failed miserably. Stuck on a snowy rock in the middle of a who-knows-where expanse of space. The only person who bothered to bother with you was Kylo Ren, and you dreaded to find out what would happen when he ultimately lost interest, when he found something else to keep his mind busy while he wasn’t off doing the First Order’s bidding. 

You started to move towards the door, not caring that you couldn’t actually leave the room without him. You started to rip the wrap off of your hands, not bothering with carefully unwinding it. It didn’t matter.

Something Hux said to you drifted back into the forefront of your thoughts, the warning he gave you before leaving after you first met him.

_Ren has an awful habit of breaking his toys._

How close were you to breaking? No- how close was _he_ to breaking you, pushing you past the point of no return? 

Had you already passed it when you put a name to your feelings- your desire- for him? Or had it been a moot point since the words appeared on your wrist, branding you as literally _made for him?_ Just how far gone, how lost were you?

You laughed, but it was meaningless. Empty.

You’d tried. You had tried so hard to face your circumstances with optimism, though you did suffer through the occasional lapse in judgement. But despite all your plans and strategies that you’d come up with for survival in the First Order, you constantly failed and were only rewarded with increasing amounts of the meager power you had slipping away with each passing day. 

You were broken, weren’t you?

You turned around, looking back at him. 

“My life is a wreck, and it’s _your_ fault.” You say, blinking away tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. Were they tears of sorrow or anger? What had happened to your previous resolution that you weren’t going to wallow in front of him? You’d thought you had grown past the urge to constantly argue with him, berate him for putting you in the situation you’d been stuck in for _two months._

But you were once again at the end of your rope, wanting to finally be done with the constant push and pull of your emotions. 

Did you want to kill Kylo Ren, or did you want to fuck him? Did that even matter, when you’d probably never have the guts to attempt either option? 

“That’s not true.” His face was neutral, that carefully composed almost-calm, bored look that he often adopted. Was he referring to the validity of the label of ‘wreck’ when applied to your life, or the statement that it was his fault?

“What do you mean, that’s not true?!” You hold your arms out, gesturing wildly around you with your now-bare hands. “Look at what’s become of me, of my life. I’m not fulfilling my purpose because I had to be stupid and get captured and I’m not even important enough for the people who I basically gave my life for to try and rescue and-” You cut yourself off, unwilling to disparage the Resistance in front of the poster child for the First Order. No matter how frustrated you may be, you still held their beliefs resolutely in your heart, even if your frustration was with them. “But whatever. I know what you think about me. I know I’m just a girl from a middle-of-nowhere Outer Rim planet who is worth less than nothing. I never even wanted much more than that. I only ever wanted-” Your voice breaks. Shit. _I only ever really wanted to find my soulmate. Find you. And now that I had I wish I hadn’t._ “I only ever wanted something that I don’t think you’ll give me, at least not the way I want it.” 

You took a deep breath, before looking him square in the face. “I’m tired of whatever is happening here. I am exhausted from trying to figure out what you want, what you’re thinking, what your motives for keeping me around are.” _I’m tired of trying to figure why you, of all people, are my soulmate._

“And if I don’t need one?”

You scoffed. “I doubt that.” 

“You find that hard to believe?”

Sometime in the midst of your ranting, he had started to approach you. Why did that always happen? Why can’t you ever manage to maintain a safe distance from him? Close proximity only ever served to ruin your ability to think clearly about him, to think critically about your actions. It always led to you doing something you’d regret. 

The second you noticed him closing in on you, you froze. In an awful parallel to your last disastrous sparring session, you were now pressing yourself against the blast door, with nowhere to escape. Only Kylo could open it back up and free you, but he wouldn’t. 

He didn’t bother caging you in with his arms, blocking you in. Your boots were rooted to the floor by nothing more than his presence, close and overpowering. 

“You wouldn’t keep someone alive without an ulterior motive, especially not someone as _insignificant_ as me.” Where you’d gathered the bravery- _the stupidity_ \- to speak as if you knew him from, you didn’t know. But you couldn’t imagine him ever being unsure of himself, couldn't imagine him not knowing what he wanted or why he did something. 

“Is that so?”

You tried to remember how you felt about him before, when you’d only heard rumors about him, when you’d only been another prisoner of the First Order. Channel that energy, ignore the way your heart is threatening to break out of your chest with every inch Kylo Ren closed between you. 

What was the common rhetoric about him, again? 

“You’re a monster.” You said it, but you weren’t sure if you even believed it anymore. You didn’t have reason not to- he hadn’t proven himself to be anything but. Maybe it was your heart once again disconnecting from what you knew was right and deciding to lead you to what you wanted, no matter the cost. No matter the consequences, either immediate or far into the future. 

“I wonder what that says about you, then? That you are destined for a monster?” 

You looked up at his face, counting the freckles that dotted his skin. He’s so beautiful. And he’s dangerously close, barely a breath away. 

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

And then, he kissed you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just want to write smut finally and that’s why there’s an unnecessarily long sex dream sequence that means nothing and didn’t advance the plot at all at the beginning of this chapter? Yes. Do I have no idea if it’s any good because I rarely write smut and this fic is partially an excuse to practice that because I want to [redacted] Kylo Ren? ...Also yes.
> 
> Also also: I doubt anyone cares that I’ve been updating like crazy frequently but I just am really enjoying working on this fic!! Like all I do is either school work or writing for this.
> 
> Also also also: Will I ever have them stop arguing? No. Do I feel cheesy having the I-love-you-I-know parallel? Yes. But I am nothing if not a stupid romantic shithead and you should have known that when you clicked on this (or if you've made it this far, hi!). 
> 
> [And I am gonna move past the whole sparring thing bc I'm tired of it. sparring arc is over.]
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter hehe. I love you all, have a nice day/night! STAY SAFE! ♡


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my brain takes "kylo ren during sex" and just translates it to "adam sackler"

It was not gentle, not a romantic first kiss where both of you hesitated before moving into a tender embrace, slowly exploring how it feels to finally connect with the other.

It wasn’t like the other kisses you’d experienced in your life- some awkward, some tentative, even some that had a modicum of mutual desire. But not quite like this.

No, this was something different. 

Kylo Ren kissed you like a man starved. He kissed you as you had imagined he would- rough, devouring, like he was trying to claim his rightful ownership over you. Or, perhaps, trying to _remind_ you of his ownership. 

Whether or not you wanted to argue that point didn’t matter. You could restart your bid for control once his hands were no longer in your hair, holding your head in place while he took over you, once your body was no longer his.

Your heart was still hammering from your previous argument, from the lingering effects of being in his presence and not knowing what he was thinking, feeling, from the endless waves of emotions you had moved through in the past ten minutes. It took a moment for your thoughts to catch up with the moment, time having lost all meaning. Every second that passed felt like twenty light years and twenty milliseconds at the same time. But once your thoughts _did_ catch up, and you fully comprehended that _yes, this is real,_ you eagerly returned the kiss. Gasping into it, electricity running through your veins. 

The durasteel was firm against your back, allowing him to completely press you against it. You raked your hands through his hair, feeling each strand as it passed through your hands- _so that’s what it felt like._ He had to arch himself over you slightly, his frame towering over yours. 

You wished, briefly, that you could have an outsider’s view, so you could see what he looked like right then, pinning you against the door and completely overtaking you. Were his eyebrows furrowed, his shoulders tense as he concentrated on you? What did he look like as he bent himself so he could properly reach your lips? 

What did _you_ look like? 

One hand moves from your face to your neck, drawing you upwards, deepening what was already an intense display of desire. Your pulse was rapid, and he _had_ to feel it under his touch, feel what he did to you. A rush of heat shot between your legs, and you moaned into the kiss. 

A brief moment of clear, rational thought broke through your hazy mind. You shouldn’t want this. You _really_ shouldn’t want this. The sensible part of your brain- the part of your brain that you’ve been consistently ignoring lately- reminded you who exactly it was that you were letting touch you right now. But you were too turned on to care.

You bit his bottom lip, drawing a deep groan out from the depths of his chest, reverberating against you. And you would do anything to hear that sound again, hear more from him. You reveled in the knowledge that _you_ were the one that could do that to him. 

He broke away from you, and you tried to chase his mouth, not wanting to stop kissing him yet. You don’t think you’d ever be ready to stop kissing him. 

He pushed your head back, his grip on your neck tightening for a moment before loosening some- but not all- of the pressure. It was a warning, a reminder of the imbalance of your power. The imbalance that you had succumbed to, if just for the time being. The imbalance that- whether or not you liked it- made your heart race with a longing, a deep need for him to hold you down and fuck you. 

You rubbed your thighs together, attempting to alleviate some of the pressure, unsure if this was going to go in the direction you wanted. 

He examined your face, lips red and wet from his abuse, eyes wide and pupils blown. Or, at least, that’s what you assumed you looked like, seeing the state he was in. His gaze was hungry, drinking in your dazed expression, as if- instead of satisfying him- your kiss had awoken something deep in him.

When he spoke, breathing his words right next to your ear, his voice was quiet but not any less fierce in it’s delivery, lower than usual, husky and dark. 

Feral.

“We’re going back to your room and then I’m going to fucking _ruin you.”_

Oh fuck. 

It _was_ going in the direction you wanted. 

You nodded, a bit too eagerly, not trusting yourself to give a coherent answer, not able to even comprehend how fast this was advancing, spinning out of your control. 

You almost argued with him, begging him to just take you right then and there against the door. But the intensity in his eyes stopped you, thinking that maybe, at that moment, it would be good to just go along with what he wanted. 

Besides, if he was telling the truth- and you didn’t doubt his ability to render you immobile- you wouldn’t be able to walk back to your room anyway. 

Needless to say, the walk to your quarters was endless. 

He walked in front of you, his helmet hastily back on, though you only knew that because you _watched_ him put it back on. He maintained the usual distance between you, but his long stride and swift speed further increased it, and you didn’t bother trying to keep up with him. If you didn’t know better, he would seem completely unaffected by the immediate future he laid out in front of you. 

The entire journey you, however, were in a state of disbelief. 

Yes, this was happening. 

You were, indeed, following Kylo Ren back to your room. 

And when you got there, he was going to fuck you. 

Finally. 

Thankfully, you passed no Stormtroopers, no other officers. You doubted they’d be able to tell exactly what you were doing, at least not from Kylo, who was stoic even when he wasn’t hidden away. You, however, felt like you were an open book- they could take one look at you, and see that you were going to do what they probably thought you were doing all along. Why else would someone like Kylo Ren keep someone like _you_ around?

The conclusion of that train of thought was not hard to figure out. 

He reached the room before you, the blast door opening for him without even needing to be unlocked manually. But you weren’t going to bother trying to figure out exactly how he was able to do that- if he was always able to do it and if the necessity of him using the access panel was negligible- because the door was open and he was waiting. 

For you. 

The second the door hissed shut behind you, he was on you again, pressing you against the door. This time there was no reluctance on your part, no hesitation in immediately kissing him back. How he managed to remove his helmet in the few second difference of your arrival times, you had no clue. It didn’t matter. 

The only thing that mattered was _him._

Your hands wandered from his chest down his body, feeling the fine ridges of his undertunic. You wondered what his skin would feel like under you, if it would turn red under your touch, if he would allow you to run scratches down his back, down his arms as he had his way with you. 

But the moment your hands passed that invisible line between his chest and his hips, feeling your way under the tunic and to the hem of his pants, your intent in doing so _very clear,_ he pulled away from you, grabbing your hands. 

He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, leaning down so his head was level with yours. 

_“Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”_ He growled into your ear before attacking your mouth once more. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, which you parted for him, allowing him to dive into your mouth, allowing his tongue to run along your own. You let him completely take over, inviting him in, giving him permission to do whatever he wanted.

He removed his hand from your wrists, but the pressure keeping them above you didn’t let up. You struggled against it for a second, unsure of what exactly was happening before you realized.

He was using the Force to pin your arms above you, freeing his hands to do other, much more important tasks. 

A benefit of being a Force-user, you supposed. Other possibilities rapidly unfurled in your mind, ideas and images of ways to abuse the abilities he had for your own pleasure. He pulled away from you, smirking, and there was no doubt that he had heard your fantasies.

“Naughty thing,” He murmured, his darkened eyes consuming yours. “You’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you?” 

“Yes,” You breathed, not willing to lie or play coy. Later, there would be time to be a tease later. 

He hummed, holding your chin in his grip. 

“How long?” It was nothing more than a breath against your lips, his eyes once again flicking between your own eyes and your lips. His thumb traced your bottom lip, as if he could coax the answer from you. 

“I- I don’t know,” You didn’t think you would be able to put a date on the moment when you’d started desiring Kylo Ren instead of loathing him. The two emotions were tangled together, hate and lust the only driving factors in your thoughts and actions. All you knew was that, at that moment, you wanted him more than you wanted anything else in your entire life.

Your answer, it seemed, was acceptable. 

He gripped your hips, before hoisting you against the wall. You immediately hooked your legs around him, trusting him to support you, relishing in the way his slowly hardening length pressed against you. You shifted your hips slightly, discreetly grinding against him. 

But the look he gave you informed you that he knew what you were doing. And that it wouldn’t work. 

One hand slowly moved from your hip, his featherlight touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. His fingers ghosted over your breasts, tracing over the line of them but not lingering. When his touch finally came back to your hips he stopped, teasing along the hem of your pants. 

You ground your center against him again, urging him to move. He tilted his head ever so slightly, narrowing his eyes. 

And you knew then what he wanted you to do. 

“Please,” Your voice was shaking, and you tried to tilt your hips towards his again- anything to alleviate the tension that had been building in you since you first saw his face- _from when you first met him, really._

“Please what?”

“...Touch me.”

“I thought I was touching you,” He hummed, his fingers dancing around your hips, your thighs, occasionally brushing against the slivers of skin exposed by your shirt riding up. 

“Touch…” You huffed, letting your head fall back against the door, pride and embarrassment keeping you from finishing. _Touch my pussy! Fuck me like you said you would!_ Your mind screamed, and he gave no indication if he heard it. 

“What was that?” His hand rested on your inner thigh, so close to where you need him. He traced circles over your clothed skin, his touch bringing back memories of your dream. When you woke up this morning, sweaty and aroused, had you realized that you were just a breath away from actually touching and being allowed to openly want him?

“All you have to do is _ask_ for what you want.” He echoed his sentiments from the other day, when you’d so boldly taken his thumb into your mouth. So much and so little had changed since that day. 

“I don’t- I _can’t-”_

“Use your words.” From someone else, it might have seemed like a light tease, or perhaps gently soothing, serving to coax it out of you. 

From him, however, it was a threat, and combined with his quiet but commanding voice, it only served to further increase your burning need. 

His teasing lowered, steadily creeping closer and closer to where you knew he knew you needed it, trying to draw the plea from you. His touch barely ghosted over the junction of your legs before you snapped. 

Fuck your pride, fuck any embarrassment you may feel. You needed him to touch you, fuck you as hard as he could, fulfill his promise to ruin you, and you needed it _now._

“Please, fuck me! I don’t care how, do _whatever you want_ to me, I just need you inside me, need you to fuck me,” You begged, looking anywhere but at him, attempting to turn your face away in embarrassment. But to your dismay, instead of giving you what you wanted, he removed his hand, lowering you to the floor and moving away from you. 

Your hands dropped to your sides, slapping against the door, your frustration clear on your face as you glared at him. “Hey! Don’t you _dare_ stop-”

“Strip.” He said it without even turning to look at you, throwing it over his shoulder as if it were an afterthought, as if he didn’t like that he had to say it outloud, that you weren’t able to read his thoughts as he could yours. 

“I- What?” Your pulse was deafening in your ears.

“ _Strip._ Now, before I get rid of them myself.” He turned back around to face you when he was barely a foot from your bed, allowing you space to follow his order. You took a moment to recollect your thoughts, but the knowledge that he was standing there, watching you and waiting for you, urged you closer. 

Being there in front of him, you were suddenly unbelievably nervous. Or maybe it was your nerves finally catching up with you, the reality of your current moment hitting you just then. He was standing there, _really standing there,_ and actually wanting something from you. 

Actually wanting _you._

And so you nervously rushed through taking off your clothes, not bothering to make it a teasing, sensual experience. That could happen at a later time. You didn’t have the patience right now, and you doubted he was faring any better. 

However, when you were down to only your underthings, you hesitated. You peeked up at him, unsure if he wanted you to continue, to strip completely. Were you ready to lay yourself bare before him and allow him to see everything that was hidden away, in almost every meaning of the word? 

Your pause hung in the air. 

He was still, considering you. 

And then he rushed forward, and for a moment you think he’s going to finish the job himself, as he had threatened to. But instead, he grabbed you and sat at the edge of the bed, bringing you to stand between his legs. It happened so quickly that you stumbled over yourself, throwing a hand onto his shoulder to steady yourself. He was firm beneath you, a solid wall while you felt like you were slowly caving in.

“I believe I told you to strip,” He said, meeting your eyes. You bit your lip, trying to ignore how his hands ran from your thighs, over your ass, back to your hips. Would you ever get used to his touch, or would it always send the same sparks over your body, goosebumps left in their wake? 

“I-”

“So disobedient,” He murmured, his hands gripping tight. You weren’t even trying to be defiant. It was your sudden insecurity causing your reluctance, that aggressive desire to somehow beat him at his own game gone. “Even now, when I can hear how badly you want to just _give in_ to me.” 

That, you supposed, was true. Even with stupid things like guilt or embarassment holding you back from just getting rid of the rest of your clothes, the flame in your heart- or more accurately, _in between your legs-_ was spurring you on, and it _did_ want to just let you give in to Kylo Ren. Let him have you, _own you,_ even if you would argue against it in the morning. 

The consequences of this can be dealt with later. 

You searched his face, as if asking for what he wanted you to do next. But he was unmoving, watching you instead. Waiting for you to give in. Give yourself to him. 

And then, you nodded minutely, barely even moving your head. But you knew he caught it, because before you could even process it, he was once again kissing you, pulling you closer, crushing you against him. His hand snaked behind you, making quick work of your bra, practically ripping it off once it was unfastened. He tossed it away, and it was forgotten before it even hit the floor. 

You tore yourself away from him, hooking your fingers under your last remaining piece of clothing, the last scrap of fabric separating your wet pussy from the open air, from him. Dragging it down your legs- hoping he wouldn’t notice the very obvious spot where you had been dripping into it, practically soaking through the fabric- before stepping out and kicking it away. 

Kylo Ren sat back, taking in your naked body. His gaze crawled down from your face, pausing when he reached your breasts. 

He cupped them in his hands, thumb dragging over your nipples, teasing them until they stiffened under him. You bit your lip, eyes glued to his face, holding back the whine that was threatening to spill from your lips. He briefly looked up, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly at the dazed look on your face. 

But, he had other priorities. Abandoning your breasts, he continued his exploration, leaning forward and briefly pressing his lips to your skin. Once more, he reached your hips, but this time there were no barriers between his touch and the heat burning between your legs. 

The second he dipped his fingers below, finally touching where you’d been craving him, your knees buckled, your hand shooting out to grip his shoulder again. If he minded your nails digging into his skin, he didn’t let it show. Were you always this sensitive, or was this just the power he held over you, able to destroy your will with just a single touch? 

“So wet,” He murmured against your skin. “And all for me. Is that right?” All you can do is whine as he finds that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling it a few times with the pad of his finger. 

He was right- you were soaked, and all because of him. All _for_ him. Your breathing picked up, and you were glad you had his shoulder anchoring you- if you didn’t, you’re certain you would have been unable to support yourself, your knees weak beneath you.

You said nothing, your eyes closed. With him actually touching you, any thoughts aside from abstract feelings of pleasure were gone, barely comprehending the words he said to you. Any guilt or disgust at yourself that you might have felt was gone, an emotion to be processed later once he wasn’t touching you. 

And then, he abruptly stopped, his hand gone. Before you can gather your thoughts and protest, he smacks the outside of your thigh and you yelped, eyes flying open. It was not at all like the spank from your dream, which had been light and teasing. No, this actually stung, the type of smack that served to put you in your place. But this pain was not unwanted, only hurting in that same beautiful way that bruises hurt when you press on them.

“I asked you a question, pet.” 

_What question- oh!_ Your mind caught up two seconds late, leaving you scrambling to answer. Anything to have him touching you again. 

“Y-Yes,” you stuttered out, once again too embarrassed to elaborate. For a moment it seemed as if he will force you to say it, to tell him _exactly_ what he made you feel, but instead he just put his hand back to work, pressing a light kiss to your jaw.

“Good girl,” He praised before he moved away from your clit. You momentarily missed his touch, but the disappointment was dashed once he started to work one of his digits into you. His fingers are much thicker, much longer than yours, and the difference is immediately noticeable. 

He pumps his finger a few times, allowing you to acclimate to the feeling of him. 

You’ve barely adjusted before a second finger was added, continuing to stretch you. Your mouth dropped open, a shaky sigh leaving you. 

He thrusts his digits slowly, and you could swear you’d never felt as full as you did with his fingers in you. His thumb found your clit again, applying pressure while he worked his fingers in and out of you, preparing you for him. Briefly, he brushed the spot inside you that sent another wave of bliss up your spine. A choked moan- louder than you had anticipated- burst from you, and you were shocked that your grip hadn’t broken the skin on his shoulder.

You had barely begun to wonder if he was going to add another finger, if he was going to make you cum like this, when a particularly well-aimed thrust drew another moan from you, drew another rush of wetness from your pussy. 

And then, like before, his hand was gone. He held your gaze as he brought the fingers that were just in you to his mouth, cleaning them of the mess you’d left on them. He hummed around them, and you wished that they were in your mouth, that you were cleaning him off. You whined, softly, at the sight. Bringing his mouth off of his fingers with a small ‘pop’, he stood.

You stumbled backwards, looking up at him, his towering frame. 

“Get on your hands and knees.” You blinked, dazed from the sudden absence of his touch, before rushing to comply, scrambling onto the bed. You peeked over your shoulder at him, and he gestured downward towards the bed. You lowered yourself onto your elbows, giving him a full view of your glistening folds, of what exactly he was able to do to you. 

Faintly, you heard him groan at the sight, and a swell of pride- and, of course, more arousal- filled your chest. 

Once more, you looked back at him, before holding back yet _another_ whimper.

“Oh, _fuck._ ” 

He had taken his cock out, flushed and fully erect. Your mouth watered, wondering if you’d ever get the chance to take him in your mouth, to run your tongue along the veins and ridges of him. If you would ever get to swallow his spend, look up at him after with pride at making him cum. 

Ignoring that, what really took you aback when you first saw him was just how _big_ he was. A moment of doubt flashed through you, unsure if his fingers had adequately stretched you to take him. But you also longed for the stretch, for the tight tension it would bring into your core. You couldn’t help the way you clenched around nothing, not caring if he was too big. You wanted him inside you- no, you _needed_ him. 

“What a little slut.” He said, amused at your enraptured expression, staring at him- his length, his hand as he slowly pumped himself, further preparing to fuck you. Unable to speak, you nodded, not taking your eyes off his cock. He climbed onto the bed, wasting no time positioning himself behind you. 

Slowly, he dragged the tip of himself up and down your pussy, gathering some of the slick on his cock. Whenever it passed your entrance it would catch slightly, dipping in. If he would just sink into you, you could get some semblance of relief. You whimpered, arching your back, as if presenting yourself to him would entice him into hastening his pace. 

But no, this was happening at the speed he wanted, the speed he chose. 

The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, and it’s all you can do to not press back, fucking yourself onto him. You breathed deep and slow, willing yourself to be patient.

When he did finally start to push in, he went slow, allowing you to accommodate his size. He felt bigger than he looked, and you felt every inch he pressed in, a tense ache in your core at the sensation. 

But, though he started slow, as soon as he figured you’ve gotten used to him- whether or not you actually had- he pulled back out and roughly thrust back in, beginning to set a brutal pace. You cried out, burying your face in your pillow, your arms rendered useless.

He grabbed the back of your head, pulling it up by your hair. 

“I want to hear you.” He said. “Let me hear what I do to you.” You nodded, and he pushed your head back into the bed, but you turned your face out to ensure that every noise you made was audible for him. 

At his command, you let yourself be heard, no longer muffling the moans and whimpers that he drew out from you. 

“You feel so good around my cock,” He grunted, gripping your hips to fuck you even harder. “So tight, so wet. Made for me.”

And he was right- you _were_ made for him.

“Please, please- fuck-” You had no idea what you wanted to say, so focused on the feeling of him inside you that any thought is cut short.

His grasp on your hips was bruising, and the sound of him fucking you filled the small space. If you weren’t the one being fucked, you would have been mortified, the shameless display of lust leaving you feeling dirty. But, luckily, you _were_ the one being fucked, and the sound only further spurred you on. 

And maybe, feeling dirty wasn’t a bad thing if it _felt this good._

“You like this, don’t you?” He asked, leaning over so he could both increase his already punishing pace and growl in your ear. “Being fucked like a cheap whore?” His hand was no longer on your hip, instead clutching the sheets beside your head. 

“Oh gods, fuck, Kylo- fuck,” Your words were breathy, practically an incoherent mess. A vague memory of your dream, of calling him _sir,_ swam to the surface of your mind. But no, you couldn’t do that now, you didn’t even have the mental capacity at that moment to process it. 

All you could process was the need for more. 

“Harder,” You breathed, and he complied, somehow. Every single thrust was sharp, hitting deep within you. Deeper than you knew _could_ be hit. 

“Want you to cum on my cock,” He said, the hand that was not by your head moving between your legs, moving to circle your clit. His hand was rough and fast, not the light, teasing touch from earlier, now matching the pace of his hips instead. 

He had a goal now, and he was going to make it happen, exactly when he wanted it to happen. 

Your already fast breathing picked up, unrestrained moans leaving you as he continued to ruthlessly pound into you, growling obscenities into your ear. 

“Are you- _shit-_ going to cum for me, cum on my cock like a good little slut?” He breathed into your ear. You nodded, mouth open, any noises that escaped it unintelligible. Strands of hair stuck to your sweaty face, the air between you hot and humid. The fabric of his clothing- which he had never removed, another demonstration of his complete power over you in this moment- rubbed against your skin, chafing slightly and offering no comfort. 

“Yes, please,” You whined, finally able to articulate your plea for release. 

“Please _what?”_ If both his hands weren’t busy- one between your legs, the other beside your head, supporting him- you’re certain he would have spanked you again. And part of you _wanted_ him to hit you again. Needed to feel that pain. 

“Fuck- please, let me cum, ple-” Your words were cut off with a broken moan, and it was becoming harder to hold off your imminent climax. He continued pounding into you, every thrust hitting deeper and adding to the steadily building ball of tension that needed to snap. But you couldn’t let it- not until he allowed it. 

He cursed before once again speaking in your ear, his words rough and commanding, his breath fanning over the side of your face. 

“Cum for me.” 

And, hand shooting out to grip the sheets beneath you in a tight fist, you did. 

You shook beneath him, back arched, a shaky, broken moan vaguely in the shape of his name leaving you as you reached your peak. Eyes wide open, staring blankly as you ride the waves of ecstasy, speaking a litany of quiet curses.

What you wouldn’t give to live in that moment. No concerns in your mind but Kylo Ren’s cock thrusting in and out of you, his hands and mouth claiming their ownership of your body. 

“Good girl, such a good fucking girl.” He fucked you through it, never slowing down. You winced at the sensation of his movements rubbing against your now hyper-sensitive walls, burying your face in the sweaty sheets, trying to catch your breath. 

His pace became sloppier as he continued, and it was clear he was close to his own release. You allowed yourself to be used, now nothing more than a hole for him to abuse until he, too, came. Leaning over you, he bit the junction between your neck and shoulder, eliciting a whine from you as he dug his teeth into the skin. That was going to bruise. 

Soon, his hips stuttered and he groaned, deep in his chest, pace slowing as he slowly pumped his seed into your pussy, warmth spreading through you at the sensation. When he pulled out, you grimaced as the evidence of your coupling started to spill onto your thighs.

It was quiet, your breathing the only sound filling the space now.

You let your body collapse onto the bed, not bothering to stand up and clean yourself. You doubted you would be able to make the journey to the refresher, your legs still weak. Your thoughts were slowly starting to clear, any lingering clouds of lust dissipating in the aftermath. 

You raised your gaze to him, only to find him already staring at you. Despite what just happened, you felt exposed- laying naked on your bed while he is standing fully clothed, already having tucked himself away and looking as if nothing just happened. As if he hadn’t just fucked you like an animal, as if he hasn’t just called you a slut and a whore. 

And you stared back as if you hadn’t just enjoyed every second of it. 

“I’m leaving for the Finalizer in three days,” He said. 

Oh. You blinked at him, willing your brain to start working again, to process this information properly. 

“For how long?” 

“I don’t know yet.” 

“...Okay. Um, I guess I’ll see you when you get back then?” You wished you had a blanket that you could wrap around you, so you at least could _pretend_ to have some dignity left. 

“No.”

“Wh-”

“No, you’re coming with me.” He cut you off, giving you a stern look, as if you were supposed to understand his meaning from his initial statement. 

Mentally you scrambled, once again contemplating your relationship, what you meant to him. 

As if in answer, he reached down toward you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The action itself was gentle, but the words that he mumbled, almost too soft for you to discern as if they were just a thought that escaped, sent a chill running down your spine in fear and another wave of heat between your legs in arousal. 

“Mine.”

Perhaps, you realized, you would not be able to easily escape the consequences of what you’ve done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why I get so nervous when writing/posting spicey scenes because like,,, I'm doing this for fun!! It's for me!! but I put myself under so much pressure lmao and writing smut is just like nerve-wracking! I have to occasionally stop and just go 'ewww' at myself lol. I know you all don't care (and even if you do, it ultimately doesn't matter) but I suppose I'm my worst critic lol. (And this isn't me looking for compliments lol I just don't know where else I would express this hehe)
> 
> Also forgive any mistakes in the sex scenes- these are the only scenes my sister/beta reader doesn’t read (for obvious reasons). So it’s just me staring at it until I go insane. 
> 
> ANYWAY, pity-session aside, thank you all so much for the support and love! I appreciate any and all comments, kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, etc. I don't typically respond to comments because I don't like inflating the numbers, but if you have questions/comments/concerns that you'd like a response for, I will answer on my tumblr! And obviously, you don't have to, I'm just letting y'all know that I am okay with being interacted with haha.
> 
> I love you all, stay safe!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really hoping to have this out for Valentine's day (because, once again, I am a romantic shithead) but sadly I lost power for the entirety of last weekend, and was unable to work on this chapter at all. In addition to that, I was just really unhappy with how this one was turning out so I scrapped and restarted it, and am much much more happy with it.

The transport was quiet. 

When Kylo Ren had mentioned that you were coming with him to the Finalizer, you had assumed that meant you would be _traveling_ with him as well. Thought that perhaps having sex with him would affect how distant he was, change his detached way of dealing with you. Even if just in a tiny, miniscule, barely discernible way. 

So, when Stormtroopers arrived at your door, echoing your initial transfer to Starkiller from the Finalizer, you felt a strange twinge of disappointment. 

You weren’t going to miss your room. The only thing you really _had_ to miss was the laundry Stormtrooper, and he must have been reassigned because he hadn’t been around for the past two weeks. At least, you hoped he had been reassigned and not killed, not sent into battle only to meet his demise. 

As you sat in the empty transport, you fantasized, for a brief moment, what it would’ve been like if you _had_ been accompanying Kylo over. If you’d have been able to look into space, see the stars. If going into hyperspace would be necessary, if he would pilot or if someone else would chauffeur you.

 _Chauffeur._

You almost laughed at yourself, the glamor implied by the word completely absent from your life. It took you out of the fantasy, reluctantly bringing you back into the cold, unfeeling transport. Just because you had fucked Kylo Ren it didn’t mean you were going to be his _girlfriend._ The very word seemed wrong when applied to your relationship with him, implying triviality where it didn’t exist. 

No matter what the fates intended when matching you two together, it certainly wasn’t that. It would never be a _normal_ relationship. Nothing could be normal with him. 

And perhaps… perhaps you were meant to be unhappy. Not everyone got a happy ending and the likelihood of you being one the lucky ones was miniscule. 

Star-crossed soulmates weren’t common, but they happened. It was almost like it was the universe’s idea of a sick trick, deciding that two people, who could never truly be with one another, were destined for each other. 

It wasn’t a scenario you had _ignored_ during your constant ruminating on the life you now led, but whether or not that described you and Kylo was yet to be seen. And whether or not you’d actually find out within your lifetime was a different question. 

If tragedy was in your destiny, you doubted you’d survive long enough to realize it.

If you could move your arms, you would’ve put your head in your hands. Nothing came from constantly going over the same topic, the same thoughts only serving to further frustrate you. They circled around in your head and have been since you first heard Kylo Ren’s voice and discovered what he was to you, discovered that out of everyone in the galaxy he was the one you were fated to meet. 

But as it was, your hands were restrained, you once again buckled into a tiny transport to be ferried over after Kylo, like a forgotten piece of luggage, an afterthought.

“Isn’t this a waste of resources?” You asked, looking into the cockpit. The pilot didn’t answer, didn’t even turn his head in indication that he heard you. As far as you could tell, _you_ were the only reason this transport was being used. “You know, dragging me to the Finalizer in a completely different ship when I could have just gone with Kylo-” A pause before you hastily added on: “--Ren.”

You were certainly not on a first name basis with the man, your heart pounded at the very thought of calling him just by his first name since he shut you down after trying when Hux interrupted your sparring session. And you were _definitely_ not supposed to be openly familiar with him in front of his subordinates. 

But it didn’t even matter- the pilot still didn’t answer. 

_“Right.”_

The ride to the Finalizer was surprisingly short, which was both good and bad news. Good because it meant less time being handcuffed and secured to a wall; bad because it meant you were _that_ much closer to seeing Kylo Ren again, the three days since you’d last seen him seeming like an eternity.

Three days of torture, of nothing from him, three days of questioning what had happened between you, what he had said to you in the aftermath. Questioning the words he had breathed into the still air between you, and you were starting to think that maybe you made it up. 

_“Mine.”_

It was a possessive statement, not a romantic epithet. It was not born from affection, from tenderness, but instead from his need to remind you of his constant hold over you. You understood that much. 

Whatever his feelings for you were, if they were anything _but_ an odd mix of lust and indifference, they were much more complex than whatever you felt for him. Your feelings were a much more straightforward mixture of lust and antipathy, with just a smidgen of reluctant awe, and an even smaller smidgen of infatuation. The last one being something that you pushed down as far as you could, unless it grew into something more monstrous and uncontrollable. Better to focus on your hatred- which, at this point, had actually simmered down to _dislike-_ than to try to deconstruct your other growing emotions. 

_Hate hate hate. I hate Kylo Ren. I hate Kylo Ren. Fuck him, fuck everything he stands for, fuck-_ The ship jerked suddenly. Your body followed the movement, causing your restraints to yank against your neck. Your bound arms were kept from following the flow of the rest of your body, and your shoulder joints ached from the action, your arms tugging at the sockets. 

“Shit!” You gritted your teeth, trying to catch your breath. You couldn’t hide the annoyance in your voice at the mistreatment, even if it wasn’t entirely the pilot’s fault. “Could you _be_ less carefu-” 

“Pet.”

Caught up in recovering from your glorified flailing and subsequent chastising of the innocent pilot, you had somehow missed the exit ramp lowering. Which meant that you had missed that you had reached your destination, the turbulence having been a somewhat rough arrival into the Finalizer’s hangar. 

Your head whipped around, though you had immediately recognized the modified voice and didn’t need to see him to confirm who it was. There was only one person it _could_ be.

Kylo Ren was standing at the base of the ramp. If you had thought that sleeping with the man would make him less intimidating, you were proved wrong immediately as you looked down to him. His stance was strong, imposing. Even in the bright lights of the docking bay, he had the same power radiating off him that enraptured you on the dark surface of Starkiller.

You hadn’t realized he was going to be awaiting your arrival. You had almost expected to be shunted off to a hidden room somewhere, to wait for him to grace you with his presence.

General Hux stood behind him, looking absolutely _thrilled_ that you were going to be on his Star Destroyer. He possessed the same amount of apathy as before. You stared down the ramp at them, unable to move until you were released from your restraints. 

“...I’m not a pet.” You stated bluntly, too surprised by his presence to be diplomatic. Not that you ever really tried at diplomacy around him. 

The crewmate that had strapped you into your seat bounded across the ship from her previous position out of sight, moving to start releasing you. Sitting there, being unbuckled, knowing that Kylo Ren was watching you be treated like a child, knowing that _he_ was the one who ordered it in the first place was slightly embarrassing, to say the least. 

When you rose to your feet, off balanced from the ride over and from your arms still being restrained behind you, Kylo gestured you over immediately with a quick gesture. Carefully shuffling down the ramp- not trusting yourself to not stumble and fall the entire way down- it seemed to take an impossibly long time for you to finally reach him. 

“Take her restraints off.” His order was quick, directed to the crewmate but said in your direction.

“Is that smart?” Hux cut in, having watched your painfully slow descent with disinterest. How he could think you were still a danger to the First Order after seeing _that,_ you didn’t know. 

“She’s tame.” You narrowed your eyes at Kylo, reminded of the other conversation you had witnessed between the two of them. Speaking to each other as if you weren’t there, as if you couldn’t hear every word they said about you. At least now Kylo was (presumably) looking at you, ignoring Hux’s presence over his shoulder. 

_Still not a pet._

“We’re allowing mice to run around our bases now?” 

“She’ll be with me.”

The crewmate in charge of your restraints looked between the two of them, her eyebrows pinched as she tried to figure out which one to listen to. 

“Ren, I don’t think-”

“You’re right, you don’t.” Kylo turned back to you. The crewmate, now knowing which man was calling the shots, rushed forward to unlock and release you. Rubbing your wrists, trying to soothe where the metal had dug into your skin, you waited for the tension between the two men to break and for you to be escorted from the hangar to... wherever you were supposed to be next.

A second more passed, and it seemed as if Hux was going to spit some other insult your way. But before he could try, Kylo turned and started walking away without saying anything more. You hurried to follow him, walking past Hux with little more than a glance his way. His eyes followed you as you rushed by, before he sniffed and turned, walking away in the opposite direction.  
When you had left the hangar and entered into one of the Finalizer’s many winding hallways, you looked over at Kylo. You had to walk faster than him to keep up, two steps with his long legs equivalent to four of your own. 

“So, am I just going to be allowed to roam freely around the ship?” 

“No.”

“Oh. But I thought-” Why was Hux so concerned then? Was it just him antagonizing Kylo Ren, a weak attempt at a power play?

“You can’t be trusted.”

“I wouldn’t try to escape!” You said, though you did recognize that it would be significantly easier to escape from the Finalizer than Starkiller, even with your mediocre piloting skills. You knew how to punch in coordinates and turn on the hyperdrive- which was more than some inhabitants of the backwater planet you hailed from could say. That might be enough to get you out of the immediate vicinity, but you doubted you would get farther than that before you were tracked and gunned down, if you were even able to get out of the docking bay in the first place. 

So, never mind that. The plan was dead a second after you had concocted it. 

“...Promise.” You tacked on, hoping he hadn’t seen you considering the odds of a successful escape. His helmet turned in your direction, and you suspected he was giving you a side eyed glance underneath it. 

“No.” You were beginning to think he enjoyed denying you. No, scratch that. You _knew_ he enjoyed denying you, telling you no to even the simplest request. 

You kissed your teeth, trying not to grumble at the denial. After all, this was nothing different than your position on Starkiller, with you being afforded no more and no less privileges than before. Expecting different proved once again to be in vain. 

Passing through these halls with him by your side was a unique experience. Stormtroopers and Officers would hastily move out of your way, watching as you walked by. Well, watching _him_ as he walked by. You were an afterthought in their brains, only acknowledged as _that girl with Kylo Ren._

But, briefly, you felt powerful. 

This wasn’t like when you’d trail behind him on Starkiller, letting him lead the way through the halls that you had quickly memorized. Here, you kept up with him, maintaining the pace he had set, though he was always a small step ahead of you. You had no idea where he was leading you, but you didn’t care. Watching people scurry out of your way, not wanting to be in Kylo’s path, was enough to ignite your need for _more._

A hidden desire had been awakened, a secret yearning for the power that Kylo held, that he was able to utilize to prove his authority over others. But as soon as you had recognized it, you dismissed it, banishing it to the small box in your brain where you put all your damning thoughts. Power was a dangerous weapon, one you knew you couldn’t- and shouldn’t- wield, at least not to the extent of someone like Kylo. Too many souls had been corrupted through their endless pursuit of _more._

You glanced at Kylo Ren from the corner of your eye. Was he one of those souls who had been corrupted? Or was his ability to make his inferiors cower in his presence an innate quality he was born with, something that couldn’t be taught or earned? 

Though you hadn’t been passing many officers, Kylo eventually turned down a secluded hallway that was completely empty of others, and you once again wondered where exactly he was leading you. 

When he finally stopped at a nondescript blast door, you had spent at least three minutes in silence. The door opened without him needing to input a code, exposing the darkened interior of the room. You crossed the threshold, a light blinking on, illuminating the space with its cold, dim light. 

For a moment, you wonder if these were the rooms you were staying in, but something wasn’t right with that assessment. You peeked over your shoulder back at Kylo Ren and you realized where he had brought you. 

These were _his_ rooms. 

He watched as you examined the space, slowly moving from the small sitting area the door had opened into and wandering through a door that led to the bedroom. 

His rooms were unsurprisingly sparse. Utilitarian. You hadn’t pegged him as the type of decorate, though you wished you were wrong. It would have been nice to try and glean more about him from his room, but all you got from this was information you already knew. 

He was closed off, private. He didn’t allow himself to have fun, to enjoy himself. For him, everything had a purpose and anything that _didn’t_ wasn’t a priority.

The bedroom wasn’t excessively large, but it was definitely bigger than your singular room back on Starkiller. A bed, flanked by two nightstands, was against one wall. On the other was nothing but a shelf and a thin door. 

His bed was larger than the one you’d been provided on Starkiller, but not what you would have expected for a man of his standing. As you walked by it you ran a hand over the sheets, which were significantly softer than anything you’d ever slept on. 

Ah, that’s where the benefits of being the First Order’s poster boy come in. You resisted the urge to launch yourself onto the bed and burrow yourself into the sheets, instead shifting your focus to the man behind you. 

“Am I staying with you?” You turned to look back at Kylo, who had trailed in after you, though he lingered by the door. His unmasked face was more beautiful than you remembered, the three days of distance between you blurring the details in your memory. But how could you ever really forget his face, when every detail, every freckle and perfect imperfection was burned into your mind? 

You had to resist the urge to launch yourself at _him,_ now. 

“Depends.” 

_On what?_

You raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking him to expand. When he didn’t, you decided to just ignore it and continue your exploration. One way or another, he would eventually explain what he meant.

The thin door in the corner of the room opened when you approached to reveal a refresher. A _very_ nice refresher, complete with a large shower and separate tub. The idea of soaking in warm water, slowly soothing all the aches and bruises that had been building up over your captivity, was extremely tempting. But that- if it was even a possibility, given that these were Kylo’s rooms- would have to wait. 

You turned from the refresher, eye catching on the singular shelf, which was the only indication that a real person used the space, that the rooms were lived in at all. On it were several books. Actual books, not holocrons or data chips to be plugged into a datapad, but _actual tangible books_ with paper pages and inked words. You couldn’t help your lips from parting in awe. Though his collection wasn’t large by any means, it was more than you were used to seeing belong to one person. And this was just his room on the Finalizer- did his room on Starkiller have more books, more indications of who he was? 

“You like to read?” You asked, your fingertips tracing along the weathered spines of the books. You could only read a few titles, many of them in languages you didn’t know. Could he understand those languages, or did he just keep a collection of books around as a show of power? You immediately dismissed your own question, answering it as quickly as you had thought it. He wouldn’t keep something around if he couldn’t use it. 

“I don’t have time to read.”

“But you did, at some point.” You pulled out one of the books in Basic, leafing through the pages. It didn’t seem to be on something you were particularly interested in, but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to run your hands along actual pages, the scent of the worn pages wafting up as you flipped through it. 

When he spoke next, he was much closer to you. You stood side by side, observing the bookshelf. Though, you couldn’t be sure what he was looking at, his form only a blob of black in your periphery. 

“Yes.” 

“I didn’t know that.” _It fits you, though I don’t know why._

“There are a lot of things you don’t know.” _**There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.**_

He reached over, plucking the book from your hands, before sliding it back into its place amongst the other tomes. You didn’t protest. 

“...I guess not,” You said. So many of your conversations danced around the point, neither of you ever taking the chance to spell out exactly what you were thinking. Coupled with your loud thoughts and his maybe-answers in your head, you had two lines of dialogue to keep up with. 

Though, you were only certain about the legitimacy of your spoken conversations, still unsure if the thoughts that sounded like him were _actually_ him. “Will you ever tell me more?” 

You kept your gaze fixed resolutely on the books, biting your lip and trying to ignore the sudden onslaught of shyness you felt wash over you. 

You realized then that you had so many things you wanted to know about him, that mundane questions about him had been piling up in your mind for weeks. _Tell me about you, about your childhood, about your parents. Tell me when you first realized how big the universe was, when you first knew that you could be something more, when you first knew you wanted more than they were promising you._

 _Tell me why you became what you are._

“You don’t need to know more.” 

“But I want to.” You looked over at him, shyness gone as quickly as it came, only to find him already staring at you. 

You met his eyes, your breath picking up. You felt like you had admitted something scandalous, like you had laid out your deepest secrets in front of him. As if your desire to actually _know_ him was forbidden.

And in a way, it was. 

If you ever managed to return to the Resistance, nothing good would happen if they found out that you had slept with Kylo Ren, that you had kissed him, that you had wanted more. If they found out you were his soulmate, it would be even worse. If you were lucky, you’d simply be branded as a traitor, locked away so you could never return to him, so you couldn’t further your betrayal. You could be tossed out into the Unknown Regions, left to your own devices on a desolate planet. You could be killed.

No matter how you looked at it, your future was stained by his presence; his fingerprints covered you, forever branding you as his. You wouldn’t ever truly escape him, even if you never saw him again. But, as it was right now, you were stuck with him. 

If your fall from grace was inevitable, you might as well make the most of your descent. Know your enemy, and all that. Or was the label _enemy_ too harsh for him, too rigid for your ever shifting, ever evolving relationship?

“I want to know _you,_ Kylo.” Were you pushing your luck, acting so familiar with him? You searched his face, looking for some shred of vulnerability, of the feeling man you knew had to be hidden somewhere inside him, even if it was buried deep- but whatever you were searching for, he didn’t have it.

But he _was_ gazing back down at you, his eyes filled with unbridled heat.

Oh. 

You took a shaky step backwards, but not because you were afraid of him. You just wanted to put some distance between you, the sudden onslaught of desire stifling, wanting- _needing_ \- to clear your head. But he only took a step forward, negating your efforts to put space between you. 

“Do you want to be shown to your room?” **_Do you want to leave?_**

“No.” 

“You want to stay here?”

“Yes.” 

“You won’t get much sleep.”

“I don’t care.” 

“Good.” 

You almost expected him to kiss you then. 

But instead, his eyes flicked to your mouth, and when he spoke next, you knew exactly what he was thinking as he looked at your lips. 

“Get on your knees.”

_Oh._

After only a few seconds of hesitation- more due to you needing to fully process how quickly the atmosphere in the room had turned from tender (at least on your part) to lustful- you complied, sinking to your knees in a single fluid motion. The metal flooring was harsh on your knees, the coolness of it seeping through the thin fabric of your pants. 

But you didn’t care. You couldn’t care, not when he was right there, standing over you and still gazing down at you with those burning irises.

You were suddenly reminded of the first encounter you’d had with him like this, when your body had been shaking but from fear, not the anticipation of his touch. When you had tried to flinch away from his touch instead of desperately needing it, when he had wrenched your chin upwards with his boot, demanding your obedience. 

He had choked you, hunted you down, threatened you multiple times. But the thought of him using his boot on you now, of him hunting you only to fuck you raw once he caught you, wrapping his hand around your throat as you shook on his cock only sent thrills of desire up your spine and heat in between your legs. 

What the fuck had happened so that you were suddenly willing to give it to him, in exchange for nothing more than the promise of carnality? He hadn’t done _anything_ to earn your submission, but he hadn’t taken it from you either- you had given it freely, fulfilling a strange, unspoken desire to be at his mercy. 

The cracks in your façade of _‘noble Resistance fighter stuck in an unfortunate situation’_ were becoming clearer with each passing day, with every touch of Kylo Ren’s hand, gloved or not, and once it finally broke you knew what would remain in its place. 

You looked up at him. He was so tall, even when you were standing next to him. But this… this was different. 

“Please,” you whispered without even realizing it. You didn’t even know what you wanted until you said it.

He raised his eyebrow, minutely, but just enough that you could tell. _You can do better._

Okay. You could try.

You leaned forward, nuzzling his thigh with your cheek. You could feel his length, hard and straining against his pants. You took a shuddering breath, willing your pride to once again allow you to beg for what you want. If you had to fight this battle every time you wanted him to do _anything_ to sate your lust, you could foresee having this mental conversation with yourself _a lot_ in the near future. 

But maybe you didn’t have to beg with words. 

You pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his length through his pants, darting your tongue out to trace nonsensical lines along it. You looked up at him, fluttering your eyelashes, attempting to convey how badly you wanted to take him into your mouth without needing to say it. You doubted he could feel much through the fabric, but the sight of you, on your knees and practically watering at the mouth for his cock, spurred him on, ignoring his desire to hear you verbally beg.

Kylo pushed you away from his legs, letting you fall back from him. In a quick motion, his hand deftly undid his pants, his eyes not leaving yours the entire time. Your gaze only fell when he pulled out his length, and you watched, mouth parted, enraptured as he pumped it a couple times. The sight of his gloved hand running over the sensitive skin of his cock, thick and flushed and waiting, almost caused you to whine, trying to not rock back and forth on your knees in impatience. 

You wanted it. Wanted to taste him, feel him. Make him cum on your tongue. You wanted it now.

“Can I- may I-” You started, eyes not leaving his hand as he gripped himself. He huffed a quiet, almost laugh- more of a snicker- at the abandonment of your pride, watching as you stuttered and tried to string more than two words together to beg for what you needed. 

His permission came in the form of him releasing himself, clearly giving you free reign to take what you wanted.

Your eyes flicked back up to him. Gently gripping his length with your hand, taking the head of his cock in his mouth, you suckled at the tip for a moment before taking more, going slow. As you lavished your attention on him, you lightly stroked his skin with your hand. He was big, which you knew from your previous encounter, but having him in your mouth only accentuated his size. You didn’t want to have to deal with a sore jaw- well, a sorer jaw than it would already be.

But Kylo had a different plan. And you had been foolish to expect him to allow you any amount of control in this tryst. 

When you’d taken half of him into your mouth, which you were fully ready to accept as the farthest you would be able to take his cock, he placed a hand on the back of your head. You had a moment of realization at what he was going to do before he started guiding your head further down his length, and you hurriedly removed your hand, allowing him to take control. 

When he had gone as far as he realistically could go into your mouth, and thankfully not trying to fuck your throat (right now, at least), he pulled back out before thrusting back in. You managed to suppress a gag and worked on keeping your jaw relaxed as he started to fuck your mouth. 

You moaned around him, resisting the urge to reach your hand under you and relieve some of the pressure that was starting to build between your legs, figuring that wouldn’t go over particularly well with him. 

“Fuck, look at you.” He grunted, and you contemplated how you had gone from gently asking him to open up about himself for you to him fucking your mouth. Not that you particularly _minded_ the turn of events, but the contrast was jarring. “My little slut.”

Every thrust of his hips brought the tip of his cock closer to the back of your throat. You tried to maintain the closure of your mouth around him to add suction, but every other thrust seemed to need all your effort to not gag around him, leading to you abandoning your attempt and deciding to completely let him use your mouth for his own pleasure, like it was just another hole for him to fuck. You now just focused on trying to breathe and not gag in the process. 

After what simultaneously seemed like too long for him to still be going and an impossibly short amount of time since he started, his rhythm faltered. It took a second for you to realize what was about to happen, having been distracted after listening to him curse and grunt above you and ignoring your own desire and lack of breath. 

When he came in your mouth, his hips stuttering and a low groan escaping him, you let out a small whimper, your mouth still full of him. After a moment of him remaining in your mouth, he pulled out his softening cock. You swallowed his spend, trying to not visibly cringe at the taste. It wasn’t _bad,_ per se, but the combination of the unfamiliarity of the texture and taste with the knowledge that he was watching as you started to recover from his treatment made swallowing a bit difficult. 

Once you had, however, he didn’t hesitate in picking you up from the floor and dropping you onto the bed, his movement so quick and fluid that you barely noticed the transition from the ground to bed, or the three steps it took for him to carry you there. You rolled onto your back, looking up at him as he leaned over you, bracing his hand by your head. 

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss, and the knowledge that he could taste himself on your tongue sent another wave of heat down your body, moaning into the embrace. 

“You going to fuck me now?” You asked when you parted, voice hoarse, the words quiet between you. 

His eyes darkened more, which you wouldn’t have thought possible from his earlier lust-colored gaze. But now he looked as if he was going to devour you, a predator caging his prey in with his body. And you were ready for it.

He leaned closer, his mouth centimeters away from your own again. His tongue briefly darted out to flick your lips, before he practically growled a promise to make good on his statement from earlier. 

“We’re just getting started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could have been a nice tender chapter but I said NO. ONLY SMUT. I acknowledge that I am writing the fanfiction equivalent of a bodice ripper right now, and that's okay.
> 
> Love you all, stay safe!

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr [@summercourtship](https://summercourtship.tumblr.com/)
> 
> playlist: [kingdom come undone](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0FmA6B2ygezJmnBJr6LzlO) ;)
> 
> ♡♡♡♡


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